


ROTBFTD at Hogwarts: The Red Death

by NerdHQ



Series: Rise of the Brave Frozen Tangled Dragon at Hogwarts [1]
Category: Brave (2012), Frozen (2013), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Banter, Comedy, Diagon Alley, Fanfiction, Gen, Guardians - Freeform, Hogwarts, Humour, Magic, Mystery, O/C - Freeform, ROTBFTD, Rise, Rise of the Brave Frozen Tangled Dragon, School, Series, Story 1, Whump, co-writing, rise of the brave tangled frozen dragons, rotbtfd, teen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:30:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdHQ/pseuds/NerdHQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two pure-blood cousins, a fiery red head, a scrawny half-blood and a mischievous muggle-born. Five new first years join Hogwarts. They begin their year like any other ... Well, if you discount smuggling in a baby dragon, struggling to control strange ice powers and hiding secrets from your best friend. Jack, Elsa, Rapunzel, Merida and Hiccup should be in for a fun year! - Oh, and did we mention the Dragon attacking the school?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Professor at the Orphanage

**Author's Note:**

> T: "Hey! I'm Taylor!"
> 
> E: "Hey! I'm Ellie, nice to meet you."
> 
> T: "First things first, this is a shared account. I'm American."
> 
> E: "And I'm British!"
> 
> T: "We're co-writers."
> 
> E: "We apologise in advance for the switches between the American and English spelling of certain words. *cough* Grey *cough*."
> 
> T: "This is the place we will post all of the stuff we work on together. And it's 'Gray'."
> 
> E: "We hope to upload some of our work soon."
> 
> T: "Thanks! Bye bye!"
> 
> E: "Oh, before we go, a little shameless self advertisement. Check out our other accounts on Fanfiction.net and Wattpad under the same account name. Cheers."

Five boys stood at the top of a staircase, peering down the stairs, all of them looking rather unsettled - except for one.

“Are you sure about this Jack?” One of the younger boys asked, glancing at the gangly boy beside him. Anyone could have assumed they were brothers. They both had large, warm brown eyes, open faces and untidy mops of brown hair. 

Jack rolled his eyes,“Of course! It’ll be fun!”

He turned to the other three boys behind him. 

“Who’s first?” he asked, smiling widely. 

The boys each took a step back, shaking their heads, one pushing the other two in front of him. Frowning, Jack picked up the cardboard box at his feet and walked to the edge of the stairs.

“Fine then, stay up here.” he glanced back at the boy who had spoken before as he balanced the box on the edge of the stairs and settled himself inside. “Jamie? Coming?”

Jamie still looked daunted as he examined the stairs. The staircase was the tallest and the straightest in the building, leading directly from the second floor to the front hall. It was narrow and rather steep, and didn’t even look safe to walk down, let alone to use for sledding. 

“I dunno…” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Come on!” Jack coaxed.

“Er, no,” Jamie decided. “I’ve changed my mind,” 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

The younger boy gritted his teeth and crossed his arms. “I’m not scared.” 

“Then get in the box.”

He looked down the staircase one more time, and seemed to change his mind. 

“Fine,” he said. With determination in his eyes, he got into the box. Jack glanced back at the other scaredy-cats behind them. 

“Can one of you lot at least give us a push?” he asked, a bit bitingly.

One of the boys eagerly nodded. As long as it wasn’t him going down the Staircase of Death, it seemed he was perfectly happy to participate.

“Ready?” Jack asked his friend. 

Biting his lip, Jamie nodded.

“Go!” Jack shouted. The boy pushed the back of the cardboard box over the edge of the drop. There was a moment where they balanced precariously, between safety and certain doom. Then they tipped forward.

WHOOSH. Down the stairs the went, gripping the sides of the box tightly as they tried to steer away from the walls. The two boys couldn’t see each other’s expressions, but both let out loud yells of excitement as the ride got bumpier and bumpier.

Jack shivered. He suddenly felt as if his insides were frozen. That was when the ride abruptly smoothed out and got a lot faster. They came off the staircase and slid across the hard tile floor. There wasn’t time to do anything as the they sped towards the wall at the end of the foyer.

“Abandon ship!” Jack shouted, leaping out and rolling along the floor to a stop. 

Jamie, however, was slower to react. He twisted around, but it was too late. The box spun out of control, then rammed into the wall with a sickening thud.

Jack scrambled to his feet and dashed to his friend’s side. Jamie was lying on the floor, the box beside him, tears in his eyes and blood on his face.

“Jamie!” Jack cried. “Jamie, are you okay?”

“Ow,” the boy mumbled, as his friend helped him to his feet. 

“Where are you bleeding?” Jack asked, examining his friend’s face for cuts and bruises.

“My mouf” Jamie mumbled. He spat some blood onto the hall floor, heedless of the fact the nuns had just scrubbed it. “I fink…” he took a moment to self-diagnose. A wide smile spread across his face. His teeth were red with blood, but one of them was missing. “My toof came ou’! Yeth!”

Jack smiled too, relieved. “Awesome.” He glanced back up the stairs, looking for the rest of the group, but a short, plump woman in a nun’s black and white habit had taken their place, glaring down sternly at him with her hands on her hips.

“Jackson, what is the meaning of this?”

His smile faded. “We were just sledding, Sister Margaret,” he said.

The sister raised an eyebrow. “Indoors? In July?”

Jack hesitated. “...yes?”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “This is the second time this week Jackson. I’ve warned you already, there must be consequences when you break the rules!”

“Consequences?” Jack demanded incredulously. “What rules are there against sledding down the stairs?”

“You could have been hurt,” the Sister said sternly.

“But I wasn’t!” Jack protested.

Sister Margaret’s tone hardened. “It appears to me as if Jamie did, in fact, get hurt.”

“Well--” Jack began.

“No excuses,” the Sister snapped, lifting her skirt to come down the stairs. “This time it’s--” she had almost reached the bottom when she slipped. The Sister let out a loud shriek as she fell down the steps, landing at the bottom with her habit somehow still on her head.

Jamie stifled a laugh as other sisters came running to see what the ruckus was about. Jack moved out of the way as they formed a circle around Sister Margaret and helped her to her feet. Voices broke out as the other sisters asked what had happened, brushing her down and checking her over.

“Are you alright--?”

“---what happened?”

“-- the stairs---”

“--- slipped---”

“--- don’t know how exactly---” but they were soon interrupted by another, older and louder voice, full of authority.

“And what is going on here?”

Jack and Jamie both stiffened. The Sisters immediately quieted. Sister Margaret straightened her habit and stepped forward. “I simply slipped on the stairs Mother Superior,” she explained. 

Mother Superior was not impressed. “An awful lot of fuss for a minor slip, Sister,” she commented, looking over her spectacles at the younger woman.

“What’s that on the staircase?” one of the Sisters asked.

Jack and Jamie peered through the gaps of the circle of sisters, following their gazes to a patch of something clear and hard covering the bottom three steps. It looked like---

“Ice,” one of the other sisters said. “It’s ice.”

“Ice?” the nuns murmured among themselves. 

“How could it have gotten there?”

“--It’s July!---”

“ It’s much too warm---”

“--not possible--”

“I’m pwetty sure tha’ wasn’ there before.” Jamie whispered to his friend. Jack nodded, his eyes fixed on the frozen water.

Mother Superior herself stepped forward to examine the patch of ice. 

“Most unusual.” She muttered. Straightening, she turned to look at the two boys standing sheepishly to the side. 

“Well?” She asked. “Would you care to explain this?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know, Mother,” he answered honestly.

Sister Margaret scoffed, crossing her arms and turning her head away. Mother Superior narrowed her eyes. 

“I’m sorry Sister, is there a problem?”

Sister Margaret turned to face them again, her mouth a thin, tight line. 

“It must be their fault. It is always those two!” 

“So what you are saying,” Mother Superior coughed to clear her throat, a small, ladylike cough. “Is that two eleven year old boys, whilst using a cardboard box to slide down the stairs, managed to form a layer of ice, perfectly fitted to the staircase, in the middle of July.” When Margaret remained silent, she continued. “I’m afraid Sister, that we do not believe in magic here.”

Jack and Jamie glanced at each other. Mother Superior was defending them? Weren’t they supposed to be in trouble?

“Well how else would you propose it got there Mother?” Sister Margaret asked scathingly.

Mother Superior opened her mouth to reply, but that was when someone knocked on the door.

All heads whipped around to face the noise.

Without a word, Sister Margaret went to answer, giving Mother Superior a glare as she passed. 

Pushing the handle down, she pulled the door inwards, revealing a tall man who smiled widely at her with bucked teeth. 

“Can I help you, sir?” the Sister asked, a bit indignantly. It was almost tea time, a very unusual time for someone to stop by on business. 

“Yes,” He said. “I wish to see the Mother Superior,” Jack and Jamie tried very hard to be invisible. The man spoke with an Australian accent, and they didn’t often get visitors. They wanted to see who he was.

“And who are you, might I inquire?” she asked suspiciously, critically surveying the man, from his dark grey suit and vibrant purple tie to his mussed black hair.

“I’m Professor Aster,” the man said, holding up an ID for the Sister to inspect. “I represent St. Barnum’s School for the Incredibly Gifted.”

“And what business do you have at St. Bonaventure’s?” she asked, still unconvinced.

The Professor’s eyes narrowed to moss-green slits, although he kept his smile. “I believe that business is for the Mother Superior to discuss with me, Sister.” 

“Of course,” Sister Margaret said, cowed, as she opened the door a bit wider to allow him to come in.

“Thank you, Sister,” Professor Aster said as he walked past her into the front hall of the orphanage. 

Jack and Jamie both stepped back as the Professor strolled through the crowd of Sisters, straight towards Mother Superior. 

“Mother.” He said simply, bowing his head in greeting. Mother Superior inclined hers in return and waved a hand towards her office. Professor Aster walked through the doorway, while Mother Superior addressed the crowd formed within the foyer.

“Sister Irene, would you kindly escort both Jamie and Jackson back to their dormitories? Thank you. And Sister Margaret? Clean up this mess, if you would.”

With that she turned on her heel and headed into the office, closing the door shut behind her. 

Everything was silent for a second before the Sisters began to return to whatever jobs they were doing previous to the commotion. Sister Margaret stormed off into another room, most likely going to fetch a mop and cloth. 

“This way, you two.” Sister Irene called from the bottom of the stairs. 

Rather keen to disappear before Sister Margaret returned, the boys followed the Sister back up the stairs and onto the first floor. They both spared a quick glance at the peculiar patch of ice as they navigated around it, frowning deeply. 

“Jamie, please clean your face before we eat.” Sister Irene said, opening their dormitory door and standing to the side. “And I advise you both to keep this whole incident between yourselves for now. We do not need you encouraging the younger boys.”

The door shut with a click, leaving Jack and Jamie standing awkwardly in the middle of a small square room. The window showed the outside street, bustling with passers by, framed by the crumbling cream paint covering the walls. There were two beds right next to each other, a small space in between where the boys could place their feet over the sides. The thin sheets were scrunched untidily at the end of both mattresses, hanging above two worn trunks at the foot of the beds. 

“Well, that was fun.” Jack said finally.

Jamie turned to beam at him, his smile a bit garish with all of the blood in his mouth. 

“Thithter Margaret looked like thee wan’ed to kill uth!”

Jack smirked. 

“You gonna clean your mouth out?”

“Yeth.”

“I’ll wait here.”

Jamie left the room and headed down the hall to the toilets, leaving Jack to jump onto his bed, laying back and waiting patiently for him to return. There wasn’t much to do in a nun run orphanage. St. Bonaventure might as well be the Saint of boredom. Who could blame him for trying to have some fun? 

That ice wasn't in the plan though. Jack could have sworn it wasn't there before they'd gone down the stairs. So where had it come from?

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle rapping at the door. 

“Jackson? Can I come in?” Jack sat up. It was the Australian Professor.

“Yes,” he said.

The dorm door creaked open and the Professor walked in. He wore a serious, if not slightly bored, expression as he sat down opposite Jack on Jamie’s bed. Clasping his hands in front of him, he sat, staring at the boy. He seemed to be trying to think of what to say.

Jack, feeling uncomfortable, broke the quiet.“So what do you want?”

The Professor pulled out a small pile of index cards. Reading off of one while glancing up at Jack, he asked, “Has anything strange happened to you lately Jackson?”

“It’s just Jack,” Jack corrected him automatically, staring at the cards. 

“Has anything strange happened to you lately?” the Professor repeated.

Jack shrugged. “I suppose this morning was a bit odd.”

“What happened?”

“Well, me and Jamie were, um, sledding down the stairs in a cardboard box,” He paused, expecting the stranger to scold him. He didn’t say a word. “And, well, we were near the bottom when we just kind of...sped up. The box slid out of control, Jamie lost a tooth, Sister Margaret fell down the stairs and that’s more or less when you showed up. Turns out there was a patch of ice covering the middle of the staircase.”

“Does this kind of thing happen to you often Jackson?”

“Jack.” He corrected again. But that didn’t answer the Professor’s question. The truth was this kind of thing happened quite a lot. 

Ever since he’d come to St. Bonaventure’s Home for Boys as an infant, strange things had been happening to Jack. Even the way he was abandoned was strange. Most children were left in the hospital. or taken from bad homes, or given up for adoption, but not Jack. He was left on the front stoop, like an unwanted package. All he’d had was a blanket and a name tag that read Jack Frost. No other message. Just his name. 

But that was only the start of it. When he was younger, Jack had gone through a phase where he would have nightmares almost every other night. Of course, all children had nightmares, but the aftermath of Jack’s nightmares were slightly unusual. He would often bolt awake from some horrifying dream to find his bed covered in a fine layer of frost. The nuns always said he must have left the window open, but this had never made much sense to Jack. None of the other beds in the room were ever frozen, and he made sure to lock the window in the dorm every night. 

Another time, a group of older boys were pushing Jamie around on the school playground. Jack immediately ran over and pushed himself through the circle of bullies, grabbed Jamie’s arm and pulled him away. They had run towards the school, heading for the toilets when they heard shouts and thuds behind them. Jack had turned to see the boys flat on the ground. Behind them, patches of ice. Dark, thick ice. 

There were little things as well. Jack never felt the cold. Ever. When the rare English snow arrived in the winter, and the boys were allowed outside to play, Mother Superior always had to force Jack into his heavy coat. 

“You’ll catch your death out there Jackson,” she’d say as she wrapped a scarf around his head.

“But I’m not cold!” Jack would protest, his voice muffled by the thick fabric.

“That’s the hypothermia,” she would say in reply. 

He’d roll his eyes and go out with his coat on, only to end up taking it off as soon as he was out of sight. He never even caught so much as a sniffle. 

If Jack was being honest, being unable to explain how or why these things happened freaked him out. But he wasn’t about to tell the Professor any of this. The nuns never believed him. Why would this stranger? 

In place of an answer, Jack shrugged again. 

The Professor frowned. “Just this morning then? That was the only time in your life something happened that you just couldn’t explain?”

Jack shrugged one more time. no longer even looking at him.

The Professor’s knee started bouncing and he shuffled through his cards, muttering under his breath. The awkward silence returned. Jack wondered when Jamie would return from the bathroom, and save him from having to continue with this conversation. 

Eventually, the Professor put his cards away. He looked at Jack for a long second, as if judging something. “Okay, let’s cut to the chase.” he began, impatience clear in his voice. “ I’m not from some gifted muggle school alright? I’m here to tell you that you’ve got a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Jack stared at him, uncomprehending. What on earth was a muggle? Witchcraft and Wizardry? Hogwarts? “What?”

The Professor rolled his eyes. “Jackson, you’re a wizard.”

A pause. Then, “Is this a joke?”

Professor Aster looked so supremely done in that moment Jack almost regretted asking. 

“You know, most kids’d be jumping up and down for joy if someone told them they had magic--” he said, almost reprimanding him. 

“M- magic?” Jack stammered in confusion. 

“No, this isn’t a joke,” the Professor explained impatiently. “You’re a wizard, and you’ve been invited to the best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the country.” 

Jack laughed nervously. “But that’s impossible. Magic … magic isn’t real!” 

For a moment the Professor could only stare at him. The boy had no sense of wonder. Not a believing bone in his body. “Fine then,” he said, standing. “How’d you explain this?”

The Professor slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out a long thin stick. Pointing it at the bed he was just sitting on, he muttered, “Incendio!”

Jamie’s bed promptly burst into flames.

“Oh my God!” Jack cried out, scrambling away from the fire. 

Professor Aster rolled his eyes again. It seemed to be his favourite expression. He waved his stick once more and the flames disappeared without a trace. No scorch marks, no smoke, nothing. 

“Do you believe me now?” the man asked impatiently, sitting back down on Jamie’s bed.

Jack could only nod mutely.

“Right, well, now we’ve got that out of the way ...” He flicked through his cards again, throwing a couple onto the bed beside him. 

“Are you a wizard too?” Jack asked quietly.

“Yep,” the Professor said, without glancing up.

“Was that your wand?”

“Uh huh.”

“What do you want?” 

That got the Professor’s attention. He could have sworn he heard a tremble in the kid’s voice. The boy was as white as a sheet, his wide brown eyes in stark contrast to his pale face as he stared at the strange man in front of him. The Professor realised with shame that he’d frightened the boy. He was only eleven, trying to understand something that was unbelievable. He didn’t deserve his impatience. Aster placed his cards beside him and looked directly into Jack’s eyes. 

“I’m a teacher, Jack,”he said gently. “I want you to learn. I want you to realise you have an amazing gift, and I want to teach you how to use it.”

Jack relaxed. Maybe he could trust Professor Aster after all. 

“Here,” the Professor said, handing him a thick, yellowed envelope. It was addressed in brilliant green ink.

Mr. J. Frost  
Dormitory 13  
St Bonaventure’s Home for Boys  
London 

Jack frowned. “There’s not gonna be a rabbit inside is there?”

The Professor folded his arms. “Just open the envelope Jackson.”

Jack turned the letter over to see it was sealed with a purple coat of arms: a lion, eagle, badger, and snake around the large letter H. He peeled off the wax and ripped open the envelope, pulling out the letter inside. It read: 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL   
Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY   
Headmaster: Nicholas North  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, High Wizard of The Northern Pole)  
Dear Mr. Frost,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.   
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.  
Yours Sincerely,  
Bunnymund E. Aster,  
Deputy Headmaster  
Head of Gryffindor House

Jack just stared at it for a moment before looking up at the Professor and saying, “Your first name is Bunnymund?” 

The Professor scowled. “That’s all you took away from that letter?”

“Yes.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re extremely irritating?”

“Yes.”

The Professor just sighed.

“Do people call you Bunny?”

He glared at the boy. “No.” In truth everyone called him Bunny, but Jack didn’t need to know that. 

“Can I call you Bunny?”

“It’s Professor Aster to you mate.”

Jack smirked. “Bunnymund?” 

“Don’t push your luck kid,” the Professor said, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back sometime, a week or two before school starts. to take you to Diagon Alley for your school supplies.”

“Wait, what?” Jack asked, standing as well. “What’s Die … Dee … Dragon … Dia-”

The Professor threw him a wry grin. “You’ll find out. See you round, Jackson.” 

With that the Professor was out the door. His heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor as he went.

“See ya, Bunny,” Jack said to the empty room.


	2. Toothless Hatching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiccup is woken up in the middle of the night to be told that the egg is cracking. The mysterious pitch black egg they'd found in the forest is finally beginning to hatch! And that's not the only surprise he receives that night ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! T here. E can't be here but sends her best wishes. We hope you enjoy the second chapter, but first: many thanks to our beta Tristen for putting up with late submissions and many many chapter rewrites. Disclaimer: this universe and these characters do not belong to us. They are the property of J.K Rowling, Dreamworks and Disney. We will try to update as regularly as possible, hopefully every Wednesday evening, unless we need to put the story on hiatus for any reason. Thank you for reading and enjoy. Love - T

“Hiccup. Hiccup! Hiccup!" 

At the sound of his name, Hiccup peeked one eye open to find his mother’s face just inches from his, almost filling his vision, a grin stretched wide across her face. 

For a moment, all he could do was stare at her in half-conscious bewilderment.

Then Hiccup noted the pitch darkness in the window behind her, and he rolled over and pressed the pillow over his head. It was definitely not morning, which meant he definitely did not have to get up.

Suddenly, he felt the blankets being ripped away from him. He curled into a little ball, his skinny arms wrapped around his knobby knees, huddling for warmth.

That did no good. His mother simply flipped the mattress, and Hiccup suddenly found himself lying spread eagled on the hard wooden floor, gasping for breath but still not quite awake.

He squinted up at his bedside clock and saw it read 3:44 am. Hiccup groaned.

"Get up, Hiccup!" Valka insisted, nudging his side with her foot.

"Why?" Hiccup moaned.

“Because it's happening!" She exclaimed, exasperated.

“It’s happening?” Hiccup asked wearily, sitting up and rubbing his bleary eyes. “What’s---?” 

Then he remembered. The egg. The egg was hatching.

Hiccup had found the egg a little over a month ago, in the middle of a clearing only a few miles away. It was simply lying on the grass. There was no nest anywhere in sight. This in itself made Hiccup curious and a little concerned. That and the egg's color. It was black as pitch. So black it seemed to absorb all of the light around it. Hiccup had never seen an egg like that. 

He had of course known better than to touch it, or even to go anywhere near it; the scent of a human anywhere close to her egg would have sent the dragon mother into a protective frenzy, or worse, driven her away.

Wondering what species would have an egg like that, and hoping for a new discovery, Hiccup had climbed a tree on the edge of the clearing and hidden himself among the branches, intending to wait for the mother to return so he could get a proper look at her. He had waited until well past nightfall, but much to his dismay, the mother never came back.

Fearing for the eggs safety in the chilly Norwegian night, Hiccup had taken it home and explained the situation to his mother. His mother had agreed with him, and promised him she would help him care for the egg until it hatched.

She had also promised him that this dragon wouldn’t go into the training program with the others. This one would be his.

And now the big day was finally here.

Instantly, Hiccup was wide-awake. He leapt up from the floor and dashed down the stairs, his mother hot on his heels.

The pair careened into the kitchen, Hiccup almost losing his footing on the slick tiles. Righting himself, he rushed to the fireplace. 

The dragon egg lay at the heart of the fire, which crackled cheerfully around it.. The egg was about the size of a box of tissues, pitch black, and smooth to the touch --- except for the cracks slowly creeping over its surface. The tongues of fire danced off the shell as the egg slowly began to rock back and forth, the tiny dragon inside struggling to hatch.

Hiccup glanced at his mother, kneeling beside him, and his mind went blank. He had watched her deliver dozens of baby dragons in his eleven years, and he knew every aspect of the process intimately, but suddenly it was as if he had forgotten everything. 

There were so many uncertainties with this egg, this dragon. What species was it? What if they had blundered in their care for it, not knowing it’s species? What if the long hours the egg spent in the cold had affected it somehow?

“It’ll be just fine Hiccup,” his mother assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Hiccup looked back at the egg. With all of the lights turned off, and the darkness gathered thickly outside the windows, it seemed to Hiccup as if this egg was the only important thing in the world.

His fingers tapped nervously against his thighs as he wracked his brain; what was first? What was first, what was first, what was…

And it hit him. Fish. The first thing they needed were some fish. After the egg had hatched, it was crucial to get the hatchling out of the fire as soon as possible. The flames hardened the dragon’s hide and made it fireproof for the rest of its life, but the hatchling couldn’t stay in there for too long. 

But the hatchling wouldn’t be too inclined to allow strangers to pick it up or handle it in anyway. To get the dragon to trust them, they would have to feed it.

Hiccup turned back to his mother, and found she had already gotten the items they needed. A basket of small fish and a two pairs of thick gloves, to protect their hands from the heat.

Quickly, Hiccup slipped a pair onto his small hands.

“Dragon hatching is really very easy Hiccup,” his mother said, with a twinkle in her soft green eyes. “You know that. The dragon most of the work.”

Hiccup nodded. He felt calmer knowing his mother would be here to help him. Then he heard a faint crackling sound coming from the fireplace.

Turning quickly, Hiccup saw a little claw poking its way out of the eggshell. Followed by a small foot. This was the moment the dragon would finish cracking the egg, and finally be born.

Except the hatchling’s foot appeared to be stuck. The little dragon yanked at its limb, the tiny claws waving to Hiccup as if to say hello. The egg began to rock faster, and then to shudder as the hatchling struggled even harder to get out. 

Then, rather abruptly, the egg was still. The foot and claws went limp.

Hiccup glanced hesitantly back at his mother, wondering if he should reach forward and help the dragon finish breaking the shell. She nodded quickly, encouraging him. Hiccup turned back to the egg, and that was when he noticed something odd.

There was an ethereal blue light filtering through the cracks in the eggshell. And along with it a low screaming sound, which rapidly grew louder and louder until it filled the entire kitchen.

Hiccup threw himself to the floor and covered his head, his mother following suit, just as the egg exploded. CRACK! Jet-black egg shards flew everywhere as the shell shattered.   
Hiccup could hear the quiet tink tink tink sound as they bounced against the hard tile of the kitchen floor. 

After a moment, the tinking sound faded. The room quieted. 

Apprehensively, Hiccup sat up and peered into the fire.

Where the egg had once been was a little dragon hatchling, its black scales shining in the firelight. The flames danced off the hatchling’s wide head, and its long, thin tail. The dragon’s wings were tucked tightly against its lithe little body as it surveyed its surroundings with beautiful, piercing green eyes.

Those eyes fell on Hiccup with narrowed distrust, and the little dragon’s lips peeled back to reveal two rows of sharp white teeth as it growled at him.

Hiccup gulped. Dragon’s didn’t imprint, he knew. Even newborn hatchlings knew the difference between Mom and Not Mom. If he didn’t want to lose a finger, he would have to do this carefully.

Slowly, Hiccup reached behind him and picked up one of the smaller fish from the basket his mother had brought him. Then he held it out with both hands towards the hatchling. A peace offering.

“You hungry Bud?” he asked, working to keep his voice level.

At the sight of the food, the dragon’s lips lowered, and its pupils dilated. 

Cautiously, it hopped out of the fire and onto the cool tile, steam curling from its skin as it slinked towards Hiccup, and then stretched its head out towards the fish, its mouth open. Hiccup frowned as he saw the dragon’s empty gums.

"Toothless?” he muttered, leaning in to get a closer look. “But I could have sworn you had—“

His speculation was cut off as, with a distinct schick, the little dragon’s teeth popped out of its gums, and the fish was snatched from his hands. The dragon devoured the morsel in a matter of seconds and licked its lips. Then it nuzzled Hiccup’s gloved hand, looking for more.

Hiccup’s mother burst out laughing. After a moment, Hiccup laughed too, and gave the dragon another fish. This one too, was devoured in the blink of an eye.

“What is it?” Hiccup wondered aloud. He had never even heard of a dragon with retractable teeth.

His mother’s brow furrowed as she considered. “I think,” she said, slowly “that it's a Night Fury.” her voice held a tone of awe.

Hiccup frowned, keeping his attention fixed on the dragon. “A Night Fury?” he asked. “I’ve never heard of a Night Fury.”

“They’re supposed to be extinct. Not a one has been seen in years,” his mother explained as she reached forward to caress the Night Fury. The hatchling leaned into her glove and rumbled deep in its throat. Its eyes half closed in pleasure as she moved to scratch under its chin.

“I’ve only read about them,” she continued. “And those books were always very vague anyway; the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, never approach this dragon. Bah, a whole load of dragon dung.” 

Glancing down at the little Night Fury, Hiccup slowly retracted his hand. His mother noticed.

“Oh, come on Hiccup, does he look dangerous to you?” she scoffed.

Hiccup considered the way the hatchling had blown its egg apart. “Yes,” he answered. 

She chuckled. “Only if he doesn’t like you.”

Hiccup yawned. By this time it was nearly dawn. He could see the faint lightening of the sky through the windows above the sink.

Dad will be up soon, Hiccup thought, surveying the mess the exploding egg had left in the kitchen. Dark egg shards littered the floor, and a good portion of egg fluid had managed to get on the walls and the fridge. The gooey substance was beginning to shine in the predawn light. His mother followed his gaze.

"Best get this cleaned up," she said, a bit reluctantly.

As if on cue, the hatchling sneezed, shooting a concentrated stream of blue fire across the kitchen floor and leaving a long, dark scorch mark on the tile.

His mother sighed and brought out her wand.

\----------

Even with magic, it had taken almost an hour for the kitchen to be completely cleaned, and by that time the fire had died down to mere embers. Hiccup and his mother sat on a blanket by the remains of the fire, the little dragon curled up against Hiccup. The hatchling's belly was practically bulging with all of the fish it had eaten, and it's lids drooped sleepily. Hiccup stroked it's side gently, marveling at the supple warmth of the dragon's hide.

"You said it was a boy, right Mom?" Hiccup asked.

"Yes," his mother replied absentmindedly, glancing up the stairs as she did so. All was quiet. Hiccup’s father wasn’t up. Yet. His mother refocused on her son. "What are you goin' to name him?" she asked.

Hiccup shrugged. He'd been trying to think of a name since he'd first laid eyes on the dragon. But none of the names he'd come up with had seemed right. He mentally ran through his list of favorites once more:  
Midnight. Blatantly obvious. Next.

Darkclaw. That one wasn't too bad. It sounded cool anyway. But Hiccup couldn't quite imagine himself calling the dragon by it. Darkclaw? Darkclaw! Daarrrkclaaaaawwww!!!!  
Silently, Hiccup sighed. Next.

Deathbringer. He glanced down at the gentle creature beside him. No, definitely not. Next.

Sharpteeth. Well, the hatchling's teeth were certainly sharp --- and retractable... Hiccup suddenly recalled the brief moment when he had thought his dragon was toothless. 

Toothless.

That was it.

"Toothless," Hiccup whispered aloud. The dragon instantly responded to his new name, looking up at his human with a gummy smile. Hiccup couldn’t help but laugh.

That was when he heard the clamorous ringing of his parents’ alarm clock from upstairs. He shared a glance with his mother as the noise continued. Who knew how Dad would react to yet another dragon in the house?

Abruptly, the ringing cut off with a metallic clang. Hiccup heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. And Stoick entered the kitchen.

Hiccup’s father was a giant of a man. Easily seven feet tall, and half as wide, he took up half the kitchen, his currently unkempt red beard spilling down his chest. Stoick’s head was a bit small compared to the rest of him, and he had a rounded nose and ruddy cheeks. His eyes were the same piercing green color as Toothless’s, but at the moment they were bloodshot and bleary. Stoick was not a morning person, and couldn’t function without his daily jug of coffee. Even then, the fog that seemed to surround him didn’t lift until almost noon.

Hence, Stoick trudged right past his son and his new dragon without a single comment, except for the single grunt that passed for Good Morning on his better days.

Then he poured himself a huge mug of black coffee and leaned against the sink to slurp from it, his eyes half closed in pleasure.

Aroused by Stoick’s rather loud entrance, Toothless lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the strange creature invading his territory. He growled.

That got Stoick’s attention. He glanced up from his coffee to find a the little dragon glaring at him suspiciously with his teeth bared and a growl rising once more in his throat.

Toothless had moved in front of Hiccup and spread his wings protectively. 

Carefully, Stoick set his coffee down on the counter. His eyes flickered from the dragon to his wife and back to the dragon.

“Valka?” he said warily.

“Stoick, you remember the egg Hiccup found?” Valka smiled brightly, as if everything were fine.

“Yes,” Stoick said slowly.

“Well…” his wife trailed off and looked meaningfully at Toothless.

“That was today?” Hiccup’s father said a bit stupidly, still trying to penetrate his morning fog.

“Yes, it was,” Valka said as she slowly got to her feet and went to stand beside her husband. “Stoick, meet Toothless.”

Toothless growled again. Hiccup placed a hand on the dragon’s back, trying to calm him. Toothless turned his head and gave him a questioning look. Hiccup shook his head. 

“It’s okay Bud,” he said soothingly. “That’s just my dad.”

The dragon glanced at this giant of a man, then back at the scrawny boy that was Hiccup. He cocked his head to one side. Really? His expression said clearly.

“Hey!” Hiccup protested indignantly. His mother chuckled. She could read the dragon just as easily as her son.

“He is my dad,” Hiccup said pointedly to the dragon, “And he isn’t dangerous. Dad,” he said, addressing Stoick. “Give him a fish.”

Stoick wasn’t afraid of dragons, not anymore. But he wasn’t as skilled with them as his wife, or even his son, and he knew to be wary. Cautiously, he crouched down and offered the Night Fury a small fish. 

Toothless gave him another once over; then, deeming him safe, the dragon slinked forward, stretched his neck out, and snapped his mouth shut.

“OOOWWWW!!” Stoick yelled. Toothless had bitten down on his finger instead of the fish.

Valka and Hiccup could only gawk and try to contain their laughter as Stoick jumped around the kitchen, trying to dislodge the little black dragon from his finger, cursing the whole time.

Finally, after making at least two rounds of the kitchen, Toothless lost his grip and was flung across the room and into Hiccup, knocking him to the floor.

Toothless shook himself and hid behind Hiccup, who was looking on with startled expression as Stoick waved his finger around and cursed a little more. Valka couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.

Stoick looked offended, but he couldn’t say anything, as he had his injured finger in his mouth. Valka saw his expression and quickly collected herself. 

She opened her mouth, possibly to apologize, possibly to start laughing again, but was interrupted by an insistent tapping at the window.

Tap. Tap tap, tap. Tap. Tap.

Bjorn, the family owl, hovered just outside the window. He was a midget of a screech owl, his feathers patchy and ragged with age. He clutched at least half a dozen envelopes in his beak.

Quickly, Valka opened the window and let him in. Bjorn dropped the post onto the table before perching on a chair and tucking his head under his wing, exhausted from his journey.

“Get yourself a bandage Stoick,” Valka said as she sat down at the table. Hiccup scrambled up from the floor to sit at the table. Toothless followed him, perching on the back of the chair next to Bjorn’s. Both watched intently as Hiccup’s mother began going through the mail.

There was a letter from Hiccup’s Aunt Hildegard and Uncle Spitelout.

A bill.

A coupon for a month subscription to The Daily Prophet. Valka took one disgusted look at this one and threw it into the fireplace.

Another bill.

And, a heavy yellowed envelope, with their address written in emerald script. 

Mr. H. Haddock  
The House  
Haddock Dragon Training  
Berk  
Norway

Valka froze, and her eyes widened. Hesitantly, she turned the letter over, to find a purple seal bearing a lion, a raven, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. 

“Stoick,” she said.

Her husband ignored her, engaged as he was in bandaging his finger. Toothless’s teeth had sunken fairly deep and left red divots in the flesh.

“Stoick,” she repeated, louder this time.

“What?” he asked without looking at her. He had part of the bandage in his teeth as he tried to wrap it around his finger.

“It’s from Hogwarts!” Valka said, her voice beginning to rise with excitement. 

Still Stoick refused to look at her.

To fix that, Valka swatted him on the arm.

"What?" He said, finally sparing her a glance. Then he saw the letter in her hand, which his wife was currently waving under his nose. 

"Oh," he said.

Valka rolled her eyes and handed the letter to Hiccup. He took it cautiously, as if it was liable to explode.

He couldn't have gotten into Hogwarts, could he? There was no way. But here was the evidence right before him. Hiccup couldn't help but hope.

Carefully, he broke the seal and opened the envelope, his heart pounding with trepidation.

Unfolding the letter, Hiccup read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL   
Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY   
Headmaster: Nicholas North  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, High Wizard of The Northern Pole)  
Dear Mr.Haddock,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.   
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.  
Yours Sincerely,  
Bunnymund E. Aster  
Deputy Headmaster  
Head of Gryffindor House

Dumbstruck, Hiccup looked up from his letter to his parents expectant faces.

"I got in," he said in disbelief.

Stoick let out a whoop. Valka hugged Hiccup and kissed him on the cheek. His father came around the table and gave him a pat on the back that almost knocked him from his chair. Toothless tried to eat the letter.

“What’s today’s date?” Valka asked suddenly.

“The seventeenth, I think,” Hiccup answered a bit distractedly. He was a bit busy trying to prevent his dragon from shredding his letter.

“We’ve got plenty of time, Val,” Stoick assured her. He glanced at the weary screech owl. “Let Bjorn have his rest.”

Valka nodded, reassured. 

“We’d best head to Diagon Alley soon to get Hiccup’s school supplies,” Stoick continued thoughtfully.

“In a few days,” Valka said, watching her son and his dragon. Toothless had moved past craving the letter and was now trying to chew Hiccup’s fur vest. Gently detaching the Night Fury, Hiccup offered Toothless another fish instead, which the dragon of course wolfed down immediately. Hiccup laughed as the dragon climbed onto his shoulders, sniffing his hair, hoping to find more fish there.

“They need to bond a little,” she continued. “After that we can leave Toothless with Cloudjumper for a few hours with no problems.”

"What about when he goes off to school? Will the dragon miss him?" Stoick asked.

His wife frowned. "That might be a problem.


	3. The Expected Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa and Rapunzel hadn't wanted for much in their life. Having both of their parents high up in the Ministry of Magic came with its privileges. But what they were waiting for was something money or status certainly couldn't buy. Their Hogwarts letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> T: Helloooo everybody! Thank you for all the lovely reviews. And for actually reading this.
> 
> E: Cheers to our marvellous beta reader Tristen, who I finally met last week.
> 
> T: And thank you authors and animators for existing so we can borrow your characters.
> 
> E: Wow, that's a lot of thank yous.
> 
> T: Well you've gotta thank people.
> 
> E: I know that I'm British.
> 
> T: Anyway, DISCLAIMER NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS ARE OURS. NOR IS HARRY POTTER'S WIZARDING WORLD. NOR IS MAGIC. SADLY.
> 
> E: ENJOY!

The predawn light leaked through the stained glass around the door, dappling the dark green carpet with shades of green and blue.

Elsa looked up at it, somewhat blearily. Her cousin, zombie-like beside her, didn't even stir.

"Rapunzel," Elsa nudged her. Nothing. "Rapunzel," she hissed, shoving her this time.

"What?" Rapunzel exclaimed, a bit too loudly, as she started awake. Elsa hushed her, pointing to Anna, who lay against her shoulder, a blanket wrapped around her. It wouldn't be fair to wake her.

The three girls sat before the thick front door, huddled together with several pillows and blankets shared between them.

Rapunzel rubbed her eyes. "Sorry," she yawned. Elsa frowned, resisting the urge to yawn along with her.

"It's almost time," she said. "They should be here soon."

Rapunzel stared groggily back at her, uncomprehending. "Who should be here? Are your parents coming back early?"

Elsa rolled her eyes. Rapunzel was about as useful as a broken wand before she was fully awake.

"No," She replied with a sigh, "the letters. Our letters."

Rapunzel waved her off, "Oh right, those. I knew that," she said as she fought another gaping yawn.

"Punzie, stop that!" Elsa scolded, covering her cousin's mouth with her hand. That seemed to wake the blonde up. Her bright green eyes widened and she pulled Elsa's pale hand away from her mouth.

"How can you be sleepy at a time like this?" Elsa asked in a whisper. "This is when we find out whether we made it or not."

"Elsa, we've been over this," Rapunzel groaned, lifting her arms and stretching her fingers to the ceiling." We're both going to make it."

"But you don't know that," Elsa insisted.

Her cousin cast her a bored look. "Of course I know that. Mum and Daddy told me we would get in, so we'll get in," She said, as if it were perfectly obvious.

Elsa, still unsure, pulled her sleeping little sister closer to her.

"When we get in," Rapunzel started, pressing her back against the door which faced the grand staircase that led to the second floor. "What House do you think you'll be in?"

Elsa couldn't help but smile at the question. It was one they'd been asking each other for as long as they could remember. Their answers were always very inconsistent, changing for one reason or another. Lately, Elsa's answer had become slightly more steady. She looked at her cousin. "You first."

Rapunzel grinned. "I bet the Hat will put me in Gryffindor, since I'm so brave." The girl flexed her nonexistent biceps and winked at Elsa, who giggled at her silliness. "But if not Gryffindor, I don't think I'd mind Ravenclaw. Whatever house! Even Slytherin might not be so bad."

Elsa shook her head vigorously. "Not Slytherin. Not for me, no way."

"Which house then?" Rapunzel asked, curious.

"Ravenclaw," she said without hesitation. It was the House her mother was in, and she was proud of that fact. According to her mother, Ravenclaw was the best of all four Houses, and she reminded her children of it at every opportunity.

And, of course, it must be, Elsa thought, if her mother had come from there.

Rapunzel frowned at her cousin, "And if you don't get Sorted into Ravenclaw?"

Elsa chose not to reply. She didn't like thinking about the other possibilities. She almost couldn't bear the thought of being Sorted into Slytherin. The House was renowned for turning out some of the world's darkest witches and wizards. What if it turned her evil too? On the other hand, of course, her father had belonged to Slytherin when he, himself, had attended Hogwarts. But as much as Elsa admired her father, she was still wary of his House.

None of the Houses seemed to fit her- except for Ravenclaw. She couldn't see herself as a Gryffindor; Confident, charismatic, brave- she knew she wasn't any of those things. And as for Hufflepuff -well, maybe Hufflepuff wouldn't be too bad. After all, she could always melt into the background and avoid unwanted attention. No one ever noticed the Hufflepuffs.

Her cousin's snore jolted her from her thoughts.

"Punzie!" She growled, poking her in the face.

Rapunzel snapped her eyes open. "Where were we?"

Elsa raised an eyebrow. "Hogwarts."

"Oh, right, Ok. Um …" She tapped her cheek a few times to keep herself awake. "Well, er, how about ... "

"Lessons!" Elsa whispered excitedly. "And getting our wands!"

Rapunzel perked up at that, straightening her back and leaning forward in her eagerness.

"I can't wait for Herbology! The different plants, and species and seeing things grow. All the nature and the smells and the mess!" She spoke rapidly, barely taking a breath between sentences. "And then there's charms. I can't imagine being able to make things fly by myself. I've seen my Mum do it so often but to be able to do it myself- oh, and Quidditch? We'll learn how to fly a broom, Elsa! We'll fly! We're going to-"

"Shhh!" Elsa hushed. Rapunzel had a tendency to get louder the more enthused she became about something. Elsa knew it was best to stop her before she got too excited. The noise could wake her aunt and uncle, sleeping upstairs.

Rapunzel clamped her own hand over her mouth this time, cutting herself off mid-sentence. "Sorry," She mumbled, muffled by her own palm. Elsa shook her head, but she was smiling.

"Astronomy." She said, though her cousin hadn't asked her. "And probably charms," she paused. "Those are the two I'm looking forward to the most."

They fell into an easy silence, Rapunzel playing with her straw-yellow hair and Elsa stroking Anna's. It didn't take long before their eyes to began to droop. Elsa's chin rested on top of Anna's soft red head, Rapunzel's falling onto her shoulder. Their breathing evened out as they drifted off to sleep.

That was, until they were woken by something pecking at their feet.

Rapunzel came to first. She frowned as she saw the window above her swinging wide open, letting in not just the breeze, but the acrid scent of the city as well. Still blinking sleep out of her eyes, Rapunzel wrinkled her nose as she felt another sharp peck on her ankle.

Looking down at her feet, she saw two identical Barn owls, their talons digging into the carpet, each with a thick yellowed envelope in its beak.

Oh, the mail's here. She thought. She continued to stare at them for a little while longer before it finally dawned on her. OH! The letters!

Rapunzel leapt to her feet and grabbed Elsa's arm. The Barn owls screeched and hopped back in alarm as the young girl pulled her cousin's wrist.

"Elsa!" She squealed. "Elsa wake up! They came!"

Slowly, Elsa came to, blinking blearily up at her cousin. "Punzie, wha-"

"The letters, Elsa! The letters, they've arrived!"

Elsa's head snapped to the pair of owls chirping and hopping around impatiently by her toes. If it was possible for owls to look slightly miffed, they were pulling it off well.

Anna was somehow still asleep. Elsa moved her gently from her shoulder to the floor. Grabbing Rapunzel's outstretched hand, she got to her feet.

"Are you sure?" She asked, trying to think realistically. A yellow envelope could be any number of things. Just because it had arrived at this time, on this day, in this way-after all, she didn't want to get her hopes up.

"Positive!" Rapunzel beamed. She took a deep breath to steady herself and carefully approached one of the owls with an outstretched hand. Elsa did the same. The owls hopped forwards and dropped the envelopes into their open hands, before giving one last screech and taking off through the window and into the morning sky. Glancing around the foyer, now brightly lit by the morning sunshine, Elsa wondered how long they'd slept for.

Rapunzel let out a whoop, turning the letter around and waving it frantically in front of Elsa's face. Squinting, Elsa could just make out the swirly green ink addressing the envelope to a 'Miss R. Corona'.

"It has to be!" Rapunzel insisted, pulling her letter back and clutching it to her chest.

Elsa looked down at her own envelope. Her stomach twisted as she read the address.

Miss E. Arendelle

44 West Mair Close

London

England

She looked up at her cousin to see her already positioned to tear open the paper.

"Together?" Rapunzel asked.

Elsa nodded, a small nervous smile tugging at the edge of her mouth. "Together."

They both tore open their envelopes, sliding the parchment out and chucking the rubbish to the floor. For a moment, Elsa felt as if she couldn't look. She was terrified of finding it blank, or addressed to her only by mistake, but she shoved the fearful thoughts aside and forced her eyes to skim the paper gripped tightly within her hands.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Nicholas North

(Order of Merlin, First Class, High Wizard of The Northern Pole)

Dear Miss Arendelle,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Bunnymund E. Aster,

Deputy Headmaster

Head of Gryffindor House

"See?" Rapunzel was suddenly hugging her. "I told you we'd get in! We're going to Hogwarts! Together!"

Elsa couldn't help but laugh, relief flooding through her. She grabbed a hold of her cousin's arms and spun her around in circles until both girls were breathless and dizzy. As they stopped, they started to giggle uncontrollably.

Elsa straightened herself up, still panting lightly. "We should probably help her back to bed," she said, gesturing down to the now curled up form of her sister.

Rapunzel nodded, glancing down at the pile of blankets and pillows at their feet, "I'll bring the rest of the stuff up," she said, "Meet you in your room."

Turning her back to the door, Elsa bent down and shook Anna gently by her shoulder.

"Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty," Elsa said.

Anna moaned, screwing her eyes shut and rolling away from her sister.

"Oh no you don't," Elsa giggled. She slid her arms underneath Anna's and pulled her to her feet. Anna's head lazily lolled on her shoulders as she went limp in her sister's arms.

"Why can't I just sleep here?" She groaned.

"I'm not sure Daddy would be too pleased to find you here when he gets up," Rapunzel pointed out, her voice slightly muffled by all of the cloth piled high in her arms.

Elsa rolled her eyes -Anna was a ridiculously heavy sleeper, even a Fizzing Whizbee going off right next to her ear couldn't wake her up- and slid her shoulder underneath Anna's right arm to help steer her up the staircase and back to her bedroom.

Anna simply shut her eyes even tighter, and allowed herself to be manipulated this way and that as Elsa half dragged, half carried her across the foyer towards the grand staircase. The staircase was both Elsa's favorite and least favorite aspect of her cousin's house. The royal purple carpet that covered the steps was always soft underfoot, and the steps themselves were wide enough to play on-but it was a bit of a trek just to get to the second floor. She had never bothered to count the steps, but Rapunzel insisted that there were at least twenty-eight.

Elsa set her sister on the bottom step and told her that she could walk to the room or sleep on the stairs. Reluctantly, Anna opened her eyes and started up the stairs, her small feet making no sound against the thick carpet on the stair case. Elsa stayed behind her sister as she clumsily teetered up the steps, reaching out a few times when she saw Anna lose her balance.

When they finally reached the top of the stairs, Anna led the way to her room. Not bothering to make any effort at all, she walked through the door in the general direction of her bed and belly-flopped onto the mattress, her face pressed into the rose pink quilt.

"Goodnight," Elsa said. The only response she got was a quiet snore.

Elsa backed out of the room, closing the door with a quiet click as she left. Turning on her heel, she headed back to her own room, where she found Rapunzel returning the pillows to their original positions.

"I can't sleep now," Rapunzel said, straightening the last cushion and joining Elsa on her queen-sized bed. "I'm too excited."

"Me too," Elsa admitted.

"We need to plan everything."

"To the last minute," Elsa agreed.

"What we're going to buy in Diagon Alley, what pet we're going to have, what we're gonna take, what wands we want-"

"Owl or cat?" Elsa interrupted.

"Neither. Everyone has one of those," Rapunzel replied.

"Then what do you want?"

"A chameleon, obviously," Rapunzel said, rolling her eyes.

They lay side by side on Elsa's bed, staring at the ceiling, talking about professors and spells and magical creatures.

But, despite their excitement, it didn't take long for either of them to fall back asleep.

The second time they woke, it was because of to the smell of breakfast wafting through the house.

"Five more minutes?" Rapunzel pleaded to no one.

Elsa cuffed her over the head with a pillow. "Come on," she said.

Droopy eyed, the two girls managed to crawl off of the bed and make their way down to the kitchen, their letters still clutched tightly in their hands.

Anna was already there, standing on a stool next to a tall, slender woman with long auburn hair. In her hand, she lightly held a charcoal coloured wand, which she flicked towards the stove, growing the flames and making the eggs in the pans sizzle. Floating in front of her was a piece of paper and a Self-Writing quill. The flamboyant violet feather raced across the page as the woman spoke, jotting down every word.

"Morning Mum," Rapunzel chimed, taking a seat at the small table on the far side of the kitchen. She eyed her mother, folding and unfolding the letter between her fingers. She wanted to tell her mother about Hogwarts-but she knew better than to interrupt her work.

"Morning Aunt Annabelle," Elsa followed her cousin, sitting opposite her at the sturdy round table.

Annabelle turned to smile at them both, her bright green eyes, identical to her daughter's, crinkling at the edges, before returning her attention to the eggs, continuing to dictate to the quill.

"She's been doing that a lot recently," Rapunzel whispered suddenly, leaning over the table to Elsa, "from what I've heard, there's trouble in the Ministry."

Elsa frowned. Both of her parents, and Rapunzel's had high positions in the Ministry of Magic. However impressive it may have sounded, it was hard work, and it meant that the Arendelle and Corona girls very rarely got to spend time with their parents.

"What kind of trouble?" Elsa asked, surreptitiously glancing over her shoulder at her aunt. For the first time,she noticed the slight stoop to her shoulders.

Rapunzel shrugged. "I heard her talking about dragons the other morning, and muggles. I don't know anything else, really. I just know that they're both really tired."

She sat back properly in her chair and placed the Hogwarts letter on the table in front of her with a sigh.

"Well, at least it wasn't a dream."

Elsa giggled, "I was just thinking the same thing."

Anna chose that moment to skip over to the table, claiming the chair in between the two girls.

"They came then?" She asked. "Your letters?"

"Read them," Rapunzel replied, sliding hers towards the younger girl.

They watched as Anna's eyes swept from left to right across the parchment, lighting up with every line.

"Wow!" She finally said.

"I know!" Rapunzel laughed, snatching her letter back and sticking her tongue out at Anna, who turned to her sister.

"We told you that you'd get in," Anna reminded her sister, in her best 'I-told-you-so' voice.

Elsa shrugged. "Yeah, I know, it's just-"

"Breakfast, girls," Annabelle called, waving them over to collect their food.

With a huff, Elsa hopped off her chair and followed Anna and Rapunzel to the kitchen counter.

"Mum, look!" Rapunzel exclaimed, shoving her letter under her mother's nose. As soon as Annabelle stopped speaking, the Self-Writing quill and the piece of parchment had dropped onto the smooth stone countertop, a safe distance from the open flames. The front of the parchment was nearly covered in dark, cursive script.

"That's lovely, dear," Annabelle said absently, not even bothering to look. Instead, she picked up a bowl of her own and a copy of The Daily Prophet. Elsa caught the headline out of the corner of her eye;

'Ministry Under Pressure As Rogue Groups Grow.'

Beneath the headline was a picture of the Ministry's logo being devoured by flames. As the logo was burned away, it revealed another flag, with the symbol of a crudely painted dragon skull in its center.

Elsa tried to get a glimpse of the article, but Annabelle had already moved towards the table, taking the ominous image with her.

Refusing to give up, Rapunzel followed her mother to the table, forgetting about her own breakfast still left by the stove.

"No, Mum, look!" Rapunzel tried desperately to get Annabelle's attention. "I got in."

"Rapunzel, would you mind going to get your father from the study please?" Annabelle asked her.

Elsa's heart dropped as she saw her cousin's face fall. Leaving her bowl on the table, she grabbed a hold of Rapunzel's hand and led her out of the room, telling her aunt that they'd both fetch him.

As soon as they were out of the kitchen, Elsa stopped Rapunzel and made her look her in the face. Sure enough, she spotted the tears beginning to brim in her cousin's soft green eyes.

"No," Elsa ordered. Rapunzel's head snapped up. "No. Punzie, don't you dare. You're not crying on me today."

She brushed a stray bit of hair behind her cousin's ear and playfully patted her cheek. "How can I let you cry when we've just been accepted into the best school of magic in the country?" she asked gently.

Rapunzel pasted a watery smile on her face. It was still a little sad, but it was a smile none the less - Elsa took that as a win.

"Promise me no more tears?" Elsa stared into her, her gaze unwavering. Finally, Rapunzel nodded, unable to resist her cousin's determined icy blue eyes.

"Good!" Elsa said, grabbing hold of Rapunzel's wrist again and heading up the hall. "Now let's go get Uncle Richard."

But they got no further than the dining room before she felt it. The all too familiar sensation of ice coursing through her veins, spreading throughout her entire body. She couldn't help but shiver.

"Elsa?" Rapunzel slowed her pace, placing a hand on her cousin's arm, but Elsa flinched away.

"I, um, you go on ahead. I'll, er, be there in a m-minute," she stammered.

Not waiting for a response, she turned and walked as fast as she could through the doorway that led back to the parlor, which was right next to the staircase. After stumbling around the antique furniture, Elsa practically threw herself towards the stairs, swinging around the bannister and charging up the steps.

As soon as she reached her room, she slammed the door shut, locking it.

"Conceal, don't feel, conceal, don't feel, conceal, don't feel-" She chanted out loud to herself, wringing her hands nervously while pacing back and forth. "Come on, conceal, conceal, conceal!"

She heard the panic in her own voice as it echoed around the room. Tiny sparks of blue magic shot from her fingertips. Elsa clenched them into the skirt of her night gown.

She told herself to take deep breaths, but it was no use. They came out shallow and rapid.

Why couldn't she just control her magic? Rapunzel never lost control like this. Rapunzel doesn't have magic like this, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered.

Another shiver gripped her body. She couldn't help the whimper that escaped her as she quickened her steps. One side of the room, then the other. One side, then the other. One, then the other. One-

Elsa's foot caught on the hem of her nightgown. Her heart skipped a beat as she lost her balance, and as she fell, she felt the tenuous control she had over her magic slip. A blast of freezing blue sparks shot from her hands as she stretched them out instinctively to catch herself.

A moment later she was lying on something scratchy and cold. She wasn't hurt, but as she scrambled to her feet, Elsa saw that the carpet hadn't been so lucky. She had frozen it solid. The patch of ice was stark white against the dark navy blue of the carpet, and almost as big as her.

Elsa stared at it in horror; the evidence of her nonexistent control, displayed for all to see.

How would she hide this from her Aunt and Uncle? From Anna and Rapunzel?

She didn't know.


	4. Another Arse-Kicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The last day of school! Merida and her friends are free at last. Typical of the British Summer, a storm is brewing. But it's not just the weather that has Merida on -- Wait! What's that in the forest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Shall we do this together?
> 
> "Yeah, probably ..."
> 
> "Okay. 1, 2, 3-"
> 
> "WE'RE SORRY!"
> 
> T:"So so sorry."
> 
> E:"Incredibly sorry."
> 
> *ducks things being thrown at them*
> 
> T:"It's mostly my fault, so I'm doubly sorry. Life happened."
> 
> E:"Not to mention this chapter was HELL to write."
> 
> T:"Honestly, you don't want to know."
> 
> E:"Anyway, here's chapter four and the end of the introductory chapters - if you can call them that?"
> 
> T:"And THANK YOU so much for you patience, guys."
> 
> E:"Chapter 5 will be up a little quicker, we hope. It's a little 'different', shall we say?"
> 
> T:"No spoilers! Honestly woman. Also, thanks to my friend J, for betaing last minute."
> 
> E:"Yep! Thanks J! Now, on with the reading!"
> 
> Disclaimer: We are not Walt Disney, JK Rowling or the kid in the moon, so we own none of their characters or ideas.

The only sounds in the classroom were the drone of the teacher's voice and the clacking of her chalk striking the black board.

Merida glanced up from her doodling to check the time. It felt like an eternity had passed since she had last looked, but the hands of the battered clock hadn't budged an inch.

She moaned. Why did time always have to stop in maths? Why not during lunch or break?

Fortunately, Miss Trexler didn't hear her. She simply continued writing problems on the board with her back to the class, her sleek black ponytail bobbing up and down like it had a life of its own.

It was the very last day of school before the summer holidays, but when they had walked into their last period of the day expecting sunshine and fun times, they were instead greeted with maths and despair.

Among the rest of the class, the silence was pervading. The two girls in front of her sat idly braiding each others' hair. The boy to her right had his head buried in his arms, and she could hear him snoring softly.

Merida lay her head against the cool wood of the desk and closed her eyes. She was ready to follow the boy into oblivion, until someone behind her pressed a crumpled up piece of paper into her hand.

She sat up quickly and unfolded the note, eager for anything that might alleviate the oppressive boredom.

Have you got your Hogwarts letter yet? - Ed

Nope, not yet RILEY

me neither. Max.

Thats if they want Max

Stop it Luke. Max, ignore him - Ally x

Yeah, Luke, or you'll end up in Slythers RILEY

At least theyve got some ambition

buuurn. Max

Ask Merida if she's got hers

Merida rolled her eyes at her friends' antics, and after picking up her - rather chewed - pen, she wrote:

Haven't got it yet. Luke, shut your face..

Without turning around, she held it out to Luke, who sat directly behind her. She expected him to snatch it from her fingers, but instead he pushed her hand away. Merida glanced back at him, confused. Luke's muddy brown eyes were wide, fixed on a point above her head.

Oh. Merida thought, her heart sinking as she turned around.

"Dunbroch," Miss Trexler said coldly, glaring down her long nose.

"Yes Miss?" Merida asked nervously. Trexler was the only teacher that sort of scared her.

Trexler smiled like she had razor sharp fangs, and held out her hand for the note. "I'll take that."

Reluctantly Merida dropped the paper into her palm. Miss Trexler returned to the front of the room, her high heels clicking against the hard floor.

Merida turned in her seat. Her friends stared at her in horror, and it was all she could do to shrug helplessly. Oops.

She swivelled back around. Miss Trexler unfolded the note and her eyes began darting back and forth across the page.

"What is this?" She asked sharply, looking directly at Merida.

Merida raised her eyebrows. "Paper, miss."

A few snorts and giggles echoed around the class but the small group of magical children, sitting near the back, were void of any humour. They watched with eyes widened by anxiety.

"Don't try to be funny with me, Dunbroch. What is this?"

"It's a note, miss." Merida replied dully, realising sarcasm would get her nowhere.

"About?" Miss Trexler pushed. Merida winced, rubbing the back of her neck nervously.

She cast another fleeting glance over her shoulder. Why did she have to be the one interrogated? Why not Luke? No one liked Luke.

Miss Trexler crossed her arms and began tapping her foot.

"We were just talking about getting into … a school."

Silence. She was meant to continue.

"A private school, miss."

Merida kept her eyes locked with the teacher's. She could feel everyone in the room begin to get uneasy.

After what seemed like an age, Miss Trexler finally broke the stare and turned back to the board, tossing the piece of paper into the bin beside her feet.

"I don't see how the likes of you and Mr. Morset could ever qualify for such a school," the teacher commented coldly.

Merida felt her face reddening, but she bit her tongue. Just a few more minutes and they would be free. Trexler wasn't worth it.

"Now," Miss Trexler began, "returning to division…"

It was at that point Merida stopped listening. She glanced behind her to find Luke staring at his desk, his fists clenched. Riley reached forward to touch his shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice.

Merida almost asked him if he was alright-but the bell rang.

Everybody else breathed sighs of relief, quickly packing up and making their escape. Miss Trexler didn't bother to wish them a good summer.

Luke forced himself to relax and grabbed his bags. Ed, Riley, Ally, Merida, and even Max encircled him protectively as they quickly left the hellish room.

They made it to the playground. The brightly coloured apparatuses shone in the weak sunlight as the younger kids crawled over them like ants. It was a picturesque scene, but it wouldn't last for long. A storm was coming in from behind the school. The slate colored clouds slowly consuming the fluffy white ones. Typical British weather, Merida thought, rolling her eyes. Even in the middle of July.

"That's enough guys," Luke grumbled from the center of their circle. "You don't need to protect me."

"'Course we do!" Ally exclaimed. "We stick together."

"Especially against the likes of that Hag," Riley muttered.

"That's an insult to Hags," Merida said, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

Luke couldn't help but smile at that.

They walked together out of the gates, and soon they were on the road home. The storm was still chasing them, but ahead the sky was a dreamy blue. The wind gradually picked up as they ambled along the pavement, talking about their plans for the holidays and what House they thought they belonged in.

"Luke is Slytherin. Without a doubt," Riley said, nudging the boy playfully with her shoulder.

Luke sniggered, "Better than being a Hufflepuff."

"Hey!" Max protested, "My Mum was a Hufflepuff."

"That explains everything," Luke muttered.

Ally moved closer to Max. "Watch it, Luke."

"I was joking," Luke said, though he didn't meet her eyes. "And besides, it's not as if-"

"Merida? You coming?"

The group came to a halt. Merida had stopped a ways behind them, on the corner of the street, where there was an entrance into the forest that ran along the edge of the village.

"Merida?" Ed asked again. But Merida didn't hear him. Her eyes were fixed on the edge of the forest. She could have sworn she saw movement behind one of the trees. A flicker of blue. Something that didn't belong.

Ally broke away from the group to stand next to the redhead.

"Merida?" she prompted gently, laying a hand on her friend's shoulder. "What are you looking at?"

Merida started at her touch. "Nothing," she said quickly.

"Alright, then come on," Ally said, gesturing up the pavement, where the others waited restlessly, watching her with concern.

"No, I'll take the shortcut home," Merida said, glancing at the forest.

"Okay," Ally eyed her suspiciously, sure that there was no such shortcut. She looked reluctant to abandon the redhead to her own devices.

Merida rolled her eyes. "Go," she said, pushing her friend. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," the blonde said, her brow furrowed as she followed the rest of the group.

Merida watched them for a moment. Then she heard something. A faint sigh, just above the sound of the wind, coming from the woods. Her head whipped around faster than a Nimbus 3000. There it was again! That blue flicker, even deeper within the trees this time.

Merida didn't hesitate. She was off like a snitch, running with her eyes wide open. But still, when she reached the spot where she thought the blue had been, there was nothing to be found.

She growled in frustration. She'd seen it. She knew she had. Twice! It was real.

Standing in the middle of a mossy path, Merida crossed her arms and closed her eyes, deep in thought. If it was so real, then where in Merlin's name was it? And what was it?

Above her head, the wind played with the tree branches, forcing wood and leaves to crash together. She couldn't hear herself think. But once again, above the noise, rose the sigh.

Her eyes flew open. Floating gracefully just above the mossy ground was a vaporous blue light. It held a loose shape, similar to a teardrop. As Merida watched, it let out the peculiar sigh once more.

It was so beautiful, she thought to herself. If only she could touch it ... Entranced, she reached out her hand.

"Merida!"

Merida jumped. She spun around to glare at the three redheaded boys who'd shouted her name.

She sighed. Her brothers.

"You okay there?" Hamish chuckled.

"What're you doing here?" Merida snapped. She frowned as the wind picked up, and the crashing of the branches got even louder. Around them, the forest grew darker as the storm clouds - now an unnerving charcoal - blotted out the sun.

Harris shrugged, pulling his coat tighter around himself. "Following you," he said, by way of explanation.

Hubert leaned to his right, trying to peer around his sister. "What were you looking at?"

At the mention of the blue light, Merida glanced back. Her shoulders dropped in disappointment.

It was gone.

"Nothing," she muttered. A low peal of thunder rolled over the forest. Merida felt someone grab her hand. She looked down and saw Hubert, blue eyes wide as he looked up at her anxiously. She knew he hated thunderstorms.

Rain began to hammer the leaves above them, swirling together with the howling of the wind to create a disorienting din. Merida tensed, and she felt Hubert squeeze her hand like a lifeline.

"We should probably-" Hamish started, but he was drowned out by a ferocious clap of thunder.

"Come on!" Merida shouted, taking off down the path and dragging Hubert behind her. Hamish and Harris didn't hesitate to follow.

The four siblings broke through the trees and back into the street. Remaining together, they sprinted down the road, heading towards the small bundle of houses clustered at the end. Their feet splashed through rapidly forming puddles, splattering their uniforms with mud and murky water. Merida groaned as she felt her shoes squelch. Their mother was going to kill them.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the whole street with an eerie white light. They veered to the right. A small detached house sat sandwiched between two identical residences. On its door was an intricately carved '25'.

Merida slammed her hand down on the door handle and threw herself in, the three boys plowing into her from behind. She fell to the floor, pinned down by the weight of her brothers. One of them swung his leg out to kick the door closed.

Hamish, Hubert and Harris rolled off of her, allowing her to push herself onto her back and get to her feet. Her hair and clothes were soaked through, though she did nothing but stand in front of the door, breathing heavily and dripping on the carpet. Hubert shook off his bag and ruffled his hands through his hair. Hamish and Harris still lay on the floor.

"What in the name of-"

The tall, slender figure of their mother came careening round the corner, her emerald robes billowing behind her. She wore her hair in two long bunches down her back, a streak of grey the only sign of her age.

Merida grimaced at her mother's expression. Elinor stood, frozen, her eyes flicking between Merida and the boys and back again. She looked absolutely appalled.

"Hi Mum," Merida smiled weakly.

Her mother's mouth dropped open. "Hi Mum? Hi Mum? Is that all you've got to say? What happened?"

As Merida opened her mouth to reply, one of the boys sneezed - rather violently. Elinor's irritation immediately melted into concern. "Nevermind," she said. "We'll deal with that later." She whipped out her wand.

There was a basket of laundry sitting on the kitchen table, fresh off the clothesline. Elinor flicked her wand from the basket to her children. A mass of clean, dry clothes followed the movement, flying across the room to attack Merida and the boys. Hubert went down first, tackled by a pair of jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt. Harris and Hamish started to laugh at him, but they were quickly buried by clothes of their own. Merida's favorite jumper landed on top of her water-flattened hair.

"Out of those wet clothes," their mother ordered.

The four of them immediately complied. Who cared about uniforms anyway? They wouldn't need them for another month or so. Merida secretly hoped she wouldn't need her's ever again.

Meanwhile, Elinor stalked into the family room where the fireplace stood, cold and dark. She pointed her wand at the tinder with a cry of "Incendio!"

Bright orange flames burst to life, filling the room with a warm glow.

The kids had changed into the dry clothes, but Merida's hair hung cold and heavy against her back. Swiftly, she seized the hair tie off of her wrist and twisted her hair into a messy bun. A clap of thunder rattled the windows. Hubert squeaked and ran to his mother, wrapping his arms around her long legs.

Elinor paused, taking a moment to stroke her son's curly red hair. "It's alright love," she told him gently. She glanced up at the others, shivering in the hall. "Come sit by the fire," she called.

She beckoned them over, draping blankets over their shoulders as they settled into the armchairs that faced the hearth. Hubert had softened her. Merida crossed her fingers, hoping her mother wouldn't recall her anger.

Elinor left the room and returned with four mismatched mugs, floating beside her in mid air. They drifted over to each of the children, and they grabbed them eagerly. Wide grins spread across their faces as they discovered the mugs were filled with steaming hot chocolate.

"Thanks Mum," Merida said, over the brim of her mug. Her mother smiled. She seemed to be taking this unusually well. Normally, Elinor would have scolded her severely by now.

If she decided to start now, Merida would have no defense. What could she say? That a mystical blue light had tried to lead her into the forest? She would be reprimanded even more for following an unknown source of magic into the woods by herself.

She was shaken from her thoughts by a loud screech. It came from the corner of the room, where Moddy, the family owl, usually perched. However now, instead of one owl, there were two.

"Mum?" Harris asked. "Whose owl is that?"

It was a barn owl, perching next to Moddy with one wing over it's head. Moddy looked a little disgruntled, having to share her perch with the newcomer. Her big yellow eyes were half closed in annoyance.

Elinor smiled knowingly, "He's a delivery owl."

Merida tensed. Delivery?

"Oh," Harris said.

"What did he deliver?" Hamish asked.

"A letter," Elinor replied. Merida could tell she was suppressing a grin. She was having a hard time suppressing her own.

"Did it come?" she whispered. She felt her heart in her mouth.

Elinor pointed her wand towards the kitchen.

"Accio."

A letter flew into her hand, and she walked over give it to her daughter. The boys watched jealously as Merida all but snatched it from her mother in her eagerness.

After placing her mug on the table next to her, Merida held the letter up to the firelight. For a moment she could only gaze at it in wonder. Heavy yellowed paper, the famous purple wax seal. On the front, in emerald green ink, their address:

Miss M. Dunbroch

25 Clover Close

Blachny

Inverness

Scotland

"Oh just open it already!" one of the boys cried out impatiently.

Merida glared at them, sitting in a cluster on the sofa opposite. She was tempted to open it at a flobberworms pace, but frankly, she couldn't take it anymore either. She ripped the envelope and pulled out the letter.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Nicholas North

(Order of Merlin, First Class, High Wizard of The Northern Pole)

Dear Miss Dunbroch,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Bunnymund E. Aster,

Deputy Headmaster

Head of Gryffindor House

Merida threw off the blanket and jumped out of her seat, squealing in delight.

"I got in! I got in!"

Elinor embraced her tightly, planting a kiss on top of her daughter's hair, which was still damp from the downpour. "I'm so proud of you," she said, caressing the girl's face.

The front door swung open, the wind blowing it against the wall with a crash.

"ELINOR!" their father bellowed in his usual boisterous manner. "I'M HOME!"

"Fergus, close the door!" Elinor scolded.

Fergus did as he was told, closing and locking the door behind him. He hung his dripping coat in the hall, coming into the living room to greet his wife with a kiss.

"It's tippin' it down out there," he commented. "What's up lass?" he asked Merida, ruffling her hair.

She beamed up at him. "I got into Hogwarts!"

"Look at you, my wee lass. That's fantastic!" Fergus cried, picking her up and spinning her around despite the small room. Merida started giggling uncontrollably, feeling six years old again. She clung to her father's thick neck as he leaned over to whisper surreptitiously in his wife's ear:

"What's Hogwarts again?"

Elinor rolled her eyes good naturedly. "It's a school for magic," she explained proudly, her eyes on Merida. "One of, if not the, best in the world."

"So she's got magic?" Fergus asked. "She's gonna learn how to be a witch, like you?"

"Exactly," Elinor said.

"Just what I need," he muttered, "Another woman who can kick my arse."

Merida and the boys giggled.

"Fergus!" Elinor smacked his shoulder. But she was laughing too.


	5. Of Wands and Secret Keeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Aster returns to the orphanage, this time, taking Jack with him into the strange, magical Diagon Alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> E: So … it’s been 4 months … 
> 
> T: WE’RE SO SO SORRY. *bursts into tears*
> 
> E: Life got in the way. A LOT of life. 
> 
> T: All we can do is say how sorry we are to have kept you waiting, and give you an extra long chapter to reward your patience.
> 
> E: Fingers crossed the NEXT chapter will be published a little quicker, but we said that last time so we can’t really make any promises. 
> 
> T: Life is still being a pain in the ass, unfortunately. What we can promise is that we aren’t dropping this story. We’ll stay with it til it’s finished, life be damned.
> 
> E: But for now, here is Chapter 5! 
> 
> Disclaimer: We STILL don’t own any of the characters of worlds this story is set in, no matter how much money we offer Dreamworks, Disney and J.K.

Jack’s best shoes thudded against the floorboards as he paced back and forth at the bottom of the staircase. His eyes kept flicking to the Grandfather clock which stood in the corner of the foyer. He was wound up like a spring, and every second that passed only coiled him tighter.

Today was the day Professor Aster was taking him to Diagon Alley. A letter had arrived at the orphanage a week after the Professor’s first visit, curtly informing Jack that he would be expected to be ready at 11 o’clock sharp. It was 10:58. Jack was ready. 

“Do you know how long you’ll be gone for?” Jamie asked. He sat on the bottom step, his chin resting on his hand, staring forlornly at the friend that was going on an adventure without him.

Jack paused in his pacing to pull the letter from inside his jacket. He’d handled it so much in the last few weeks that the edges of the parchment had started to soften and fray. One or two sentences had even been smudged or blotted by spilled cups of tea. After briefly skimming over the words, he gently placed it back into his pocket and resumed his pacing. 

“No idea,” he replied. Jamie sighed. 

“All this fuss over your uniform,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Jack said, deliberately glancing at the door instead of his friend. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he peered out of the dirty orphanage windows and into the open street. Still no sign of a car. Would a wizard even arrive in a car? Wouldn’t he be more likely to come on a broomstick? Or a dragon? Did dragons even exist? Jack tried to imagine a dragon landing in Bonaventure Way. He pictured Professor Aster trying to tie said dragon to a lamp post so it wouldn’t wander off, and snorted at the thought. He went to tell Jamie, but turned away to stop himself.

Jamie looked at him strangely and Jack felt a sharp stab of guilt. He kept forgetting that Jamie didn’t know about Hogwarts. He didn’t know about magic. He didn’t know about any of it. As much as Jack wanted to tell him, the professor’s letter had also reminded him of the dangers of telling normal people about magic. The risk of the secret getting out, of the entire wizarding world being revealed, was far too great. It was better for everyone that Jamie didn’t know. Jack hated keeping such a big secret from his best friend, but he knew he didn’t have a choice.

The clock chimed and Jack’s head whipped around to look through the windows. Still nothing.

“He said he’d be here,” Jack said.

Jamie opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say a word, he was interrupted by a firm knock at the door.

Jack practically launched himself across the room and flung open the door. Standing on the stoop, tapping his watch, was Professor Aster, looking rather impatient. 

“Ah, Professor Aster,” Mother Superior appeared behind Jack without a sound. Jack startled at the sound of her voice, but the professor merely blinked at her. 

“Lovely to see you again, Mother,” he nodded courteously. 

“Have him back by suppertime, Professor,” she said sternly. “Not a moment later.”

Aster flashed a charming smile. “‘Course.”?

As Jack walked out of the door, he looked over his shoulder at Jamie, standing solemnly behind Mother Superior. The smile on his face faltered with a fresh bout of guilt, but he forced himself to grin and wave goodbye. Jamie returned the gesture as Mother Superior shut the door. 

As soon as it thudded closed, the professor hopped quickly off the steps and started off. He was so tall that Jack had to jog just to keep up with him. They rounded a nearby corner into a dark alleyway and the professor came to an abrupt halt. 

Jack looked around, confused, “Er, what are we doing?”

“Hold onto my arm,” Aster ordered, taking out his wand from his grey overcoat. 

Jack frowned, “What?”

“I said hold onto my arm. As tight as you can, and do not let go.”

Timidly, Jack grabbed onto the professor’s forearm, scrunching the fabric of his coat underneath his fingers. 

“Now on the count of three,” Professor Aster began, his stern tone grabbing Jack’s attention, “I need you to take a deep breath.”

“Why--?”

“Just do as I say, will ya? It shouldn’t be that difficult.” Jack shut his mouth with an audible clop.

The professor nodded and gripped his wand tightly. Jack couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of apprehension. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew better than to ask. Instead, he settled for grasping the Professor’s arm tighter. 

“One, two,”

Jack shut his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Three.”

The only word to describe the sensation was ‘horrific’. Absolutely horrific. The world gave way and he felt each of his limbs being pulled in opposite directions. Something slammed into his chest, winding him completely. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even think about breathing. His ears popped and he felt as if his skull would explode from the pressure in his head. Jack daren’t scream, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would surely throw up. All he could do was wait for it to end. 

And it did. After what felt like an eternity of being thrown around like a ragdoll, the pressure in his head vanished. Without warning, his feet slammed into the floor, jarring his body and leaving him sprawled against rough cobblestones. 

Jack blinked open his eyes and instantly regretted it. The world around him spun like one of the tops he’d given Jamie for Christmas last year. He could almost feel his face drain of what little colour it had as his stomach churned dangerously. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stem the nausea before he lost his breakfast. Above him he heard the professor chuckle.

“Well done kid, you just apparated.”

Jack tentatively opened one eye, “I just what?”

The professor didn’t even look at him, instead busying himself with straightening his coat. Sighing, Jack fully opened his eyes, rubbing them with the palms of his hands in an attempt to still the world. It seemed to work, his vision clearing enough for him to see the professor extend his hand. Jack took it gratefully and allowed the professor to pull him to his feet, only letting go once his legs were steady. 

Professor Aster released him and shook out his hand, “Merlin, Jack, what did you do, stick your hands in a snow drift?”

Jack stuffed both his hands into his pockets, avoiding the Professor’s eyes by glancing at his surroundings. 

For the first time, he realised he had no idea where he was. It was clear he was no longer in the alley on Bonaventure Way. This alley was barely wide enough for two people, and was sandwiched between two crooked buildings. The street was full of strange, colorful people in strange colourful robes, all of them rushing by as if they had somewhere extremely important to be. Jack was about to ask the Professor what had just happened when he was knocked sideways into the wall. 

“Oi! Watch where you apparate!” the professor growled. A man dressed in emerald robes scuttled backwards, muttering a quick “Sorry,” before scurrying to join the colorful river of people.

Jack blinked, “Professor?” 

“Yep?” 

“What just happened?” 

The professor smirked, giving Jack a small nudge, encouraging him to follow the man.

At the end of the alley, Jack stopped dead, his mouth hanging open. Professor Aster came to a standstill beside him, following Jack’s gaze into the open street ahead of them. 

“Kid, come on,” The Professor nudged him again, but Jack didn’t move. “What?”

Jack merely shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief as he laughed to himself, “Woah.”

He stood at the edge of the street. People swarmed in front of him, darting into one building and out of another. Some were dressed how Jack was, plain and simple and normal. Others wore billowing robes and bright suits. Children, the majority of whom looked to be around his age or older, weaved in and out of the adults, shouting nonsense words at one another, while miming peculiar hand movements. Stupefy! WingARdium LeviOsa! Accio! At the head of the street stood a towering -- and rather crooked -- marble building. Its entrance was engraved with the intimidating words ‘Gringotts Bank’.

Something soared past Jack’s ear, and if it weren’t for the professor pulling him to the side, Jack was sure it would have hit him. Looking to see what it was, he almost laughed when he saw a stack of books whizzing down the street and into a nearby store. 

The cobbled walkway was lined with shops, leaning haphazardly against each other under the cloudy grey sky. They trailed down to a brick wall at the far end. Jack rubbed his eyes. He could have sworn he just saw the bricks move. He shook his head. Probably still dizzy, he thought to himself. 

“Come on, kid,” the professor started to push Jack forwards again, “You can marvel at it later.”

As they walked, Jack couldn’t help but peer curiously inside every building they passed. Each shop had a different character. Some were tidy, orderly, sophisticated. Others were jumbled, busy and antiquated. All of them were filled with strange people and even stranger merchandise. One advertized owls and cats and toads of all shapes and sizes. Another claimed it sold unicorn horns. For only ten galleons an ounce! The sign exclaimed. Jack squinted, not sure if he had read it correctly. Galleons? Didn’t they mean pounds?

The professor glanced at the sign too, and shook his head, muttering, “Ten galleons an ounce? They’re mad.”

The next shop had a big window displaying mannequins draped in yet more colorful robes. Behind them, Jack could see into the interior of the shop. A red-head stood on a raised dais, her fiery curls piled on top of her head, and her arms held parallel to the floor. She wore a bored expression, her blue eyes staring forlornly out the shop window as an elderly woman dressed all in mauve pinned the material. Jack watched her wince and flinch away from the seamstress, who must have stuck her with a pin.

A stern voice floated out into the street, “For Merlin’s sake, Merida! Stay. Still.” 

Jack peered to the side to see the woman that had just spoken, dressed in an emerald robe and standing with her arms crossed haughtily. He could only guess it was the girl’s mother. 

In another moment, the shop was out of sight and out of mind, like all the others they had passed. Farther and farther down the street they went, not stopping once. Jack began to wonder where they were even heading. Finally, he stopped gawking at the curiosities all around him and pulled out the list from his coat pocket. Scanning it as they walked along, Jack realized how much he actually needed. And how expensive all of it looked ...

“Professor, how am I gonna pay for all this?” Jack asked, a bit subdued. “I don’t have any money.”

Professor Aster didn’t look at him as he answered, “The school provides funds for students without …” he glanced at Jack, pausing ever so slightly, before continuing “...means.”

Jack appreciated his discretion, but the unspoken words still hung in an awkward silence between them. Parents. Family. Guardians. Whichever way you spun it, Jack had none of it. He couldn’t get away from the fact that he was alone.

“Therefore,” the professor continued, “we have just enough to buy the essentials. However, the essentials do not include pets, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

Jack couldn’t say he was too bothered. He’d never had a pet before -- the orphanage wouldn’t allow them -- and the prospect of owning a pet hadn’t even occurred to him.

“You can use one of the school owls to send letters if you’d like--” said Aster casually, before Jack interrupted him.

“Wait a minute, owls?” 

The professor made a face as if he wanted to smack himself. 

“Sorry kid, I keep forgetting how much you don’t know.” 

Jack raised his eyebrows. You think?

“Wizards and witches tend to send mail by owl. Most families have one owl that they own, though Hogwarts students usually have one of their own to send personal letters with. Students are allowed one pet at school, often an owl or a toad. Or a cat.” Professor Aster made a face as he thought of cats. 

This didn’t go unnoticed by Jack. “Is something wrong with cats, Professor?” he asked innocently.

Aster glared at the boy. “Yes. I don’t like them, and they don’t like me.”

“Why?”

Aster glared a little harder. Jack stared back, fighting the urge to smirk. 

“We’re here,” Aster said finally, effectively putting an end to the staring contest.

They stood before yet another shop; but this one wasn’t quite as inviting as all the others had been. It was narrow, squished between the two bigger, better shops on either side of it. It was grey and shabby and a bit depressing to look at. Its two bay windows were covered in dust, inside and out, and had nothing to display, except for a single, lonely stick resting on a faded purple pillow. Jack’s gaze wandered up to the peeling golden sign above the doorway, which read, Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. 

Jack was confused. This place didn't look as if anything ‘fine’ came in or out of it.

The professor brushed past him and walked straight into the shop, a little bell ringing out faintly from within as the door swung open. Jack followed, the door clicking shut behind him.

The shop was empty and quiet, the complete opposite of all the other shops Jack had seen. The first thing he noticed was the sturdy desk in the centre of the room. A ledger lay open on its dark surface, beside a large antique gas lamp that cast a soft yellow light on the swirling handwriting that covered its pages. To its left, a small staircase rose to the second floor of the shop. Behind the desk a wall of shelving, holding boxes upon boxes upon boxes, stacked diagonally and sideways and upside down. Beyond the shelves, through a doorway in the middle of them, Jack could see a long hallway that faded into darkness, its walls hidden behind even more cases.

There were so many of them! Jack started to wonder what someone could possibly need all of these cases for, what they contained--- but then he remembered the sign above the shop door. Makers of fine wands. Wands. A wizard’s essential tool. This was a wand shop. Jack’s eyes widened as he came to the realization. And he was here to get one. He was getting a wand!

But if wands were so essential, and so important, as they must be, then why was everything in the shop so… old? So disused? Everything in the shop, from the boxes to the staircase to the windows, had a fine layer of dust and cobwebs, as if no one had disturbed them in years. That couldn’t be right, could it?

Jack frowned, thinking, and wandered over to the side of the room. The walls were obscured by yet more shelves, as tall as the ceiling, and stuffed with so many boxes that whoever organized them had been forced to construct several towering stacks, which looked as if they were ready to topple at the slightest draft. For the first time, Jack got a good, up close look at the boxes. Long and narrow, they came in an assortment of faded colors; their edges were soft and frayed, much like the corners of his letter, the labels on them smudged to the point of illegibility. There was a dark green one, just above Jack’s head, that he thought he could almost read. He wondered what the wand inside of it looked like. Intrigued, Jack reached out a hand. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

Jack jumped violently, knocking a pillar of boxes with his elbow. They wobbled dangerously before they began to fall forwards. 

Instinctively, he threw his arms up to shield himself, but the avalanche of cases never came. Slowly, he let his arms drop and looked up to see the boxes frozen in mid air. 

Professor Aster stood in the corner of the room, his wand extended upwards and an exasperated look on his face. 

Jack swallowed, “Sorry.” 

The professor flicked his wrist and the boxes moved in reverse, flying back to restack themselves into the precarious pile they were in before. 

“Good morning,” a quiet voice floated from behind them.

Jack turned. An elderly man emerged from the shadows at the back of the shop, navigating the maze of boxes with ease to stand behind the desk. 

He wore a plain white dress shirt underneath a tattered brown coat, the flowy wrists of the blouse having been pulled through the ends of the sleeves. Dust was ingrained in the fabric, making him look as if he’d worn the same clothes his whole life. 

His unkempt white hair stuck out in all directions, giving him the air of a madman. Beneath equally unkempt eyebrows, pale silvery eyes, as wide as moons, looked down at Jack, as if they were boring into him, trying to figure him out. Jack could have sworn he saw a spark of recognition in them, and repressed a shiver. 

“Good morning,” the man repeated, his voice faint and raspy. “Professor,” he inclined his head towards Professor Aster, who still stood in the corner of the room, his arms folded. 

“And who,” the old man asked, returning his gaze to Jack, “might this be?” He asked the question as if he already knew the answer, which unsettled Jack even more.

“Jackson Frost,” the professor introduced him, crossing the room to stand behind the boy.

Jack scowled up at him. “It’s Jack,” he corrected, before asking the old man, “Who are you?”

“Garrick Ollivander,” he answered, extending a hand for the boy to shake, “At your service.”

Jack took it, still eyeing Ollivander with a touch of wariness. “Mr. Ollivander,” he began, “Can I ask a question?”

Ollivander nodded, which Jack took as a cue to continue.

“Why is everything in here so old?” Jack asked, “And so dusty? All these wands look like they’ve been here for ages.”

Ollivander gave him a faint smile and an enigmatic answer, “Wands are very patient, Mr. Frost. They are not opposed to waiting centuries, if that is what it takes, to find the right witch or wizard.”

Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But doesn’t the witch or wizard choose the wand?” he asked, staring up once again at the wand boxes in every corner of the shop. Even if the witch or wizard did choose the wand, it looked like a rather daunting task.

Ollivander’s eyes narrowed and Jack found himself taking a step backwards. Behind him, he missed the professor’s smirk. 

“The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Frost,” Ollivander said sternly, “Never the other way around.”

“But how?” Jack asked stubbornly, “How does it work?”

Ollivander tilted his head to the side, looking at Jack with something akin to curiosity. Saying nothing, he turned and disappeared into the back of the shop. 

Jack turned to the professor, “Did I say something wrong?”

Professor Aster, now sitting at the bottom of the staircase, shook his head, “He’ll be back.”

And he was. Within seconds, Ollivander reappeared around the corner, holding a red box in both hands. This box, compared to the others Jack had seen in the shop, looked fairly intact, almost new. Only one or two corners had gone soft and frayed, and the dust was thin enough that you could actually see the small print on the side. 

Ollivander placed the box on the desk and opened the lid. Inside was a short, thick wand, lying snug in a beige cushion, perfectly molded to its shape. Ollivander lifted it from it’s casing with the utmost care, holding it delicately between his fingers. 

“Holly and dragon heartstring, eight inches, a little stiff and sturdy,” the shop owner said without missing a beat. 

He handed it to Jack, who took it cautiously. He stared at the piece of wood for a moment, waiting for something to happen. 

Ollivander frowned, impatient. “Go on,” he coaxed, “Give it a wave.”

Jack did as he was told and waved the wand in the general direction of the staircase. Professor Aster yelped as the stairs suddenly smoothed into a slide, sending him quickly to the floor with a thump. 

Jack let out a loud bark of laughter before hastily covering his mouth after seeing the professor’s face. He was not amused. 

“Hm, no I don’t think that one will do,” Ollivander muttered, trying to hide his own smile. He took the wand from Jack’s hands and placed it back into its case. 

Whilst the wandmaker headed back into the labyrinth of boxes, Jack looked sheepishly over at the professor. 

Aster waved off the apology before Jack could even form one. “I’m used to it,” he said in explanation, as he glanced back at the staircase. “Though,” he said thoughtfully, “I haven’t seen that one before.” With a flick of his wand and a few muttered words, the professor returned the stairs to their original state.

Ollivander returned once again, this time carrying two equally worn boxes. Once again, Jack tried them both and once again neither were right. The first flung the antique lamp across the room, while the second stuck the ledger to the ceiling.

Jack began to get frustrated. Maybe none of the wands in the shop liked him. Maybe he would have to go somewhere else to find a wand. Maybe he didn’t even have magic at all and Professor Aster had made a mistake. 

After he returned the ledger to it’s place on the desk, Ollivander pulled a silver tape measure out of his coat pocket and held it flat in his palm. It floated upwards, wobbling unsteadily in the air before flying towards Jack. Jack flinched back and tried to bat the tape measure away, but Ollivander simply raised a hand. 

“Leave it be, Mr Frost,” he said, his eyes not moving from the tape measure, which was now wrapping itself around Jack’s arm. Jack tensed, clearly uncomfortable with the magical object tightening around his body, but stood still. 

Once Ollivander seemed to get all the measurements he needed, the tape measure whizzed back into his hand and he slipped it back into his pocket. The wandmaker stood for a moment, glancing around his shop, his pale eyes very far away. Suddenly, they focused on the stack Jack had almost destroyed earlier. Ollivander gazed at it for a moment, still lost in thought. Then, he seemed to make up his mind. He crossed the room in a few strides and confidently reached for a green box. The same green box Jack had tried to reach for himself when he first came into the shop. 

Carefully, he took it from its place, taking extra care not to nudge the already unstable pillar of cases, and returned to stand behind the desk. Opening up the case, Ollivander took out the wand and turned it over in his hands. 

Jack liked this wand already. It was long, thin and light brown. It wasn’t perfectly straight, instead the wood was twisted, like strands of hair, right up to the tip. 

“Fir with a Phoenix feather core,” Ollivander said softly, running his forefinger over the wood, “thirteen inches exactly, and bitterly flexible.” 

He held it out to Jack, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. Jack reached out to take the wand from him. 

For a moment, the wand rested easily in Jack’s hand, and nothing happened. But gradually, he felt a peculiar sensation. Warmth; spreading across the palm of his hand as ice spread from his fingertips to the surface of the wand, forming beautiful swirling patterns until the lower half of the wand was covered in it.

Jack felt his mouth fall open. 

“Bloody hell, kid,” Professor Aster exclaimed, “never seen that happen before.”

Jack ignored him, and looked up at Ollivander, who was watching the wand with those big moon eyes. 

Jack glanced down, then up again, “Is this normal?”

The shop-owner shook his head, “This,” he gestured to the wand held tightly in Jack’s hand, “is very peculiar, Mr. Frost,” amusement flashed in his eyes at the mention of Jack’s last name, but it soon vanished. Jack was too distracted to notice the joke, because, for the first time, in as long as he could remember, his hands felt warm; really warm. Like the lasting warmth of sunlight on a summer day, instead of the temporary heat of a fire in the dead of winter. He couldn’t help but smile at the feeling. 

“You said the core was Phoenix feather?” Professor Aster directed the question to Ollivander, who nodded.

“Phoenix feather?” Jack asked, momentarily forgetting about the strange sensation of the wand in his hand, “Those exist?” 

Ignoring him, Professor Aster slipped his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a small bag of golden medallion-like coins. After counting out a few, he placed them on the desk and returned the rest to the inside his coat. Ollivander counted the coins for himself, before sliding them into his palm and opening up a drawer behind the desk. Jack tried to get a glimpse of what was hidden within, but a tap on the shoulder from the professor had him waiting patiently for the wand-maker to finish stashing away the coins. 

“It has been a pleasure, Mr Frost,” Ollivander said, looking up just as the drawer clicked closed. He wrote something briefly in the margin of the ledger, before lifting up the emerald box and holding it out to Jack. 

Jack hesitated. He didn’t want to put the wand down. And, somehow, he got the feeling the wand didn’t want to be returned to the box either. The warmth in his hands intesified, and more ice crept up the wand. But Ollivander kept his arm steady, and didn’t break his gaze. With a reluctant sigh, Jack placed the wand back into it’s velvet pillow. 

As soon as his fingers left the wood, the ice vanished, leaving the wand as it was before. Jack frowned as the familiar cold returned to his hands. 

“Come on, Kid,” Professor Aster waved him towards the door, “We’re not done yet.” 

Jack took the case from Ollivander. The man smiled down at him, his moon-like eyes gleaming. 

“Thank you,” Jack said earnestly. 

“Use it wisely, Mr Frost,” Ollivander murmured, before turning to head back down the long dusty corridor of shelves, and melting into the darkness at the end of it until he was out of sight.

What a strange man, Jack thought, wondering when he would see him again.

He followed the professor back out into the street, clutching the case close to his chest as they weaved through the crowd. The rest of their trip passed in a blur. Jack was vaguely aware of them buying books and potion ingredients and other strange supplies, though he clearly recalled being jabbed with a pin once or twice by the old seamstress he’d seen earlier, measuring the red-headed girl. But his mind kept flicking back to Ollivanders, to the warmth in his hands when he’d held the wand, to the ice that had covered its twisted surface. Even as he held the case now, he had to resist the urge to take it out and hold it again.

It was only as the professor took the case from him that he jolted back to reality with a “Hey!”

Professor Aster raised his eyebrows, “As I was saying kid; if the nuns find cauldrons and spell books in your room, it might spark a bit o’ suspicion. I’m gonna have to keep them safe until term time. They’ll be waiting for you on the train. You got that?” 

Jack nodded, his shoulders dropping at the idea of not being able to investigate his new supplies until September. Of not being able to hold his wand again until school started. They re-entered the alley they had first appeared in, and Jack felt his stomach drop. 

Professor Aster snickered when he saw his expression, “You ready to apparate again?” 

“No,” Jack replied honestly. 

“Pity, that,” the professor shrugged. 

Jack grudgingly grabbed the Professor’s arm once more, mentally preparing himself for the horrific sensation of ‘apparating’. 

“Isn’t there any other way of getting in and out of this place?” he asked, a bit desperately. 

Professor Aster winced at the question, spiking Jack’s curiosity. 

“There is,” he began, staring determinedly at the brick wall of the alley, “But apparating is quicker. And easier.” 

Jack clung to the faint hope that he might not have to apparate again. “But what other way--” he didn’t get a chance to finish his question.

“Hold on tight!” the professor shouted without warning.

Jack barely had time to take a breath before he was sucked from the ground, only this time, his eyes were open. He saw the alley around him turn pitch black. Disturbing, flickering images of faces and limbs being stretched and contorted unnaturally flashed before his eyes. Colours and noises and smells bombarded his senses but before he knew it, Jack was standing -- yes standing -- in the alley beside the orphanage, in the exact same spot he had apparated from before. Professor Aster, already exiting the alley, began to clap. 

“You stayed on your feet, kid,” he applauded. “Now let’s get you home.”

\----------

Jack lay in bed that night reliving the day over and over again in his mind. The colors he saw when he apparated. The little old seamstress in mauve. The wand shop. The heat in his hands when he held his wand. The beautiful, complex patterns in the ice that spread over it’s surface. Oh, that wand. He ached to hold it again, but he had another month to wait. Beside him, Jamie was awkwardly sprawled across his covers, snoring quietly.

Jack wished that he could talk to Jamie about this. He wished he could talk to Jamie about everything. But the professor had said --

So what if the professor said? A small voice piped up from the back of his mind. Rules have never stopped me before. Surely, Jamie can keep a secret?

Jamie could keep a secret. Of that, Jack was sure. Whenever they were busted for one of their pranks, Jamie practically locked his mouth and threw away the key. He would never snitch on anyone, especially not Jack.

But this was bigger. Much, much bigger, than any prank. This was the safety of the entire magical world. 

Or so the professor had said. 

But what was the worst that could happen? Who would Jamie possibly tell?

Jack thought about his wand. About all of the people in Diagon Alley. About Mr. Ollivander and Professor Aster. About the warmth in his hands.

Could he really risk all of that? The safety of an entire world? Could he really risk magic?  
Eventually, Jack was too tired to stay up wondering anymore. He fell into an uneasy sleep, leaving all his questions unanswered.


	6. The Boy Who Smashed Into My Trolley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merida takes the journey to Platform 9 3/4 with her family, saying her final goodbyes before she boards the train. But once the Express leaves the station, she finds herself stuck in a compartment with a muggle-born, who knows absolutely nothing about magic, and the boy who smashed into her trolley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T: "Um ... hi. It's been a while, hasn't it?"  
> E: "Shall we start with wishing you Happy Halloween, Bonfire Night, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year and Valentines Day."  
> T: "And issuing a sincere apology."  
> E: "Life, exams, deadlines, holidays and general procrastination got in the way for a bit. But we're back now!"  
> T: "Once again, we promise we're not going anywhere."   
> E: "So here's the next chapter. And work on the 7th has already begun!"  
> T: "Enjoy."
> 
> Disclaimer: Nope, still not ours. Except any OC's that may appear. We'll have them, thank you very much.

King’s Cross was rather busy today. Quite busier than usual. 

There were people everywhere, flowing through every clear space in the station, forming a river of bodies as they went from one place to the next. Smaller tributaries branched off from the river, boarding trains, forming queues for tickets and leaving the institution altogether, rushing off to the city outside.

Merida and her brothers took in the scene with wide eyes and gaping mouths. They had never been to King’s Cross before--- their family always travelled by Floo, only using Muggle transport for short journeys. 

Even Elinor was slightly daunted by the scene, staring up at the glass ceiling arching against the heavy grey sky outside. 

Fergus led them through the station, forging a path by virtue of sheer mass. Merida pushed her trolley close behind him, Hamish and Harris clinging to the sides like Bowtruckles. At some point in their journey, Elinor shooed them off and made them walk beside her with Hubert, where she could glare them into submission. Slowly, they made their way through the station.

The pockets between the platforms were islands amid the rivers of people. Commuters often took refuge there, whenever they got lost or turned around, or simply too disorientated by the crush of people to continue. They passed several muggles standing in the middle of the islands, scratching their heads as they stared at maps large enough to use as tents.

Onward they travelled, finally pausing when they reached the brick pillars marking platforms 9 and 10. Another family stood beside the pillar on platform 9. A man and a woman glanced at the clock above them before tapping their two children on the shoulder. In one practiced, swift movement, the teenagers grabbed their trolleys, pivoted on the spot and ran at the wall, one after the other. 

Merida stared, a smile creeping over her face, as the trolleys and their drivers vanished into the solid brick wall. The parents followed directly after. 

“You’re sure you’ve got everything?” Her mother asked, glancing nervously over her daughter’s trolley, piled precariously with tattered vermilion cases and a rather large owl in an even larger cage. 

Merida nodded, “Triple checked before we left.” 

She maneuvered her trolley so she faced the wall head on and tried to drown out her mother’s detailed instructions. 

“Now,” Elinor said, “you want to make sure you do this properly--”

Merida checked that everything on her trolley was suitably balanced. 

“---Or else you could end up--”

She tightened her grip, took a deep breath. 

“---So what you do is---”

And pushed off. She ran full speed at the side of the pillar, her body tensing for the crash even as she reminded herself that she would go straight through. A heartbeat away from the bricks, her eyes squeezed shut of their own accord. 

For a moment, all she could feel was air. She barely registered the thud of her feet on the concrete. It was almost like riding a broomstick. Like flying. 

Then reality came rushing back to her. Merida opened her eyes and stuttered to a halt, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

As her family came through the magical doorway behind her, Merida finally took a look around her. Just like King’s Cross, the platform was overflowing with people. Witches and wizards, hauling suitcases and pulling children along. But most of them, you couldn’t tell just by looking, what they were. They were dressed in muggle clothing, jeans and jumpers, in order to blend in. Their wands were tucked away in secret pockets, but purely out of habit. Nevertheless, Merida could feel the magic in the air. It practically oozed from the people around them, seeping into everyone and everything. Finally among her own kind, and only her own kind, Merida relaxed. She could see some of the tension leave her mother too. 

As she was about to push her way forwards, towards the ruby stream engine to the left of the platform, something smashed into her trolley with a loud crash. In slow motion, Merida watched as her luggage flew through the air, the cage crashing onto its side and erupting into distressed screeches. 

Hands grabbed Merida’s arm and pulled her out of the way. Her father and brothers began to retrieve her scattered belongings while her mother shot dirty looks at anyone who stared at the scene for too long. 

That’s when she noticed the small, weedy-looking boy clutching the handle of his own trolley with white knuckles, and staring at her with absolute horror.

His brown eyes met Merida’s blue, and he carefully relinquished his tight grip on the handle to swipe his palms against his jeans. 

“I - er,” the boy swallowed nervously, looking first at the mess on the platform floor, then at the intimidating build of Merida’s father. “Sorry.”

For a moment Merida was ready to start a fight. Then she looked at the kid again. “Yeah well… just watch where yer goin’ next time,” she muttered. The poor boy didn't need her yelling at him on top of everything. He looked shaken up enough as it was. 

Without another word, the boy hurried away. Fergus glared after him, but Merida tugged on his arm, “Come on Dad, we’ve gotta go. The train’s leaving soon.” 

Fergus smiled down at his daughter and finished putting her trolley back together. This time, when they continued, he pushed her trolley for her, allowing Merida to take in the magnificent sight of the Express. The train practically gleamed, her scarlet paint catching the morning light filtering through the roof of the station. All along her length, children hung out of the windows of compartments, waving frantically as their parents stood by, many of them shedding a tear or two. 

As Merida’s father loaded her cases onto the train, Elinor grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her off to the side, away from much of the crowds. She crouched in front of her daughter, looking her up and down, straightening her clothes, brushing her off. For the first time in a while, her attention was fully focused on Merida, instead of divided between her and the troublesome triplets. Merida fidgeted under her intense gaze, unsure of what to do with herself.

“Now listen,” Elinor said sharply, “keep your head down, focus on your work. Behave yourself.”

Merida wrinkled her nose at the last comment.

“Try not to be late to your lessons. Listen to the prefects---”

“Mum, I know.”

Elinor glared at her. “Let me finish. Listen to the prefects, avoid Pitch, don’t even think about entering the Forbidden Forest---” Merida rolled her eyes, but her mother continued, “---and try to enjoy yourself. The first year is one of the best. Try everything you can, learn everything you can. You’ll be just fine.”

Merida nodded, a little more serious now, “Yes Mum.”

Elinor pulled her into her arms, holding on to her daughter for just a moment, before giving Merida a gentle push over to where her father and brothers stood, awkwardly shuffling their feet, as they waited for her to say goodbye.

Elinor watched as the red heads hugged each other over and over again, Fergus ruffling Merida’s hair one last time before she boarded the train. 

“Goodbye!” Merida called. With one last wave, she swung herself into the carriage and disappeared from view.

The narrow hallway was crammed with people. First years fighting over compartments with older students dodging around them on their way to the front of the train. Many rolling their eyes at their younger counterparts’ antics. Occasionally, a first year tried to follow one of them to the front compartments, only to be snubbed at the door. Though it wasn’t official, everybody knew first years took the compartments at the back of the train, and the upper years sat away from them at the front. One of many unspoken rules.

Merida made her way down to the end of the carriage, passing compartments full of crying first years, hanging out of their windows to wave to their families. She ignored them, much as the upper years did, instead focusing on finding her friends. They had promised each other they would sit together on the way to their new adventure. For once able to discuss magic freely, without having to whisper in the school playground, or while walking home. 

But no matter how hard she looked, Merida couldn’t find them. She went up the hallway and down again, up and down, getting stranger and stranger looks from students already settled into their compartments. Eventually she gave up searching for her friends and instead began to look for an even partially-empty compartment. 

Almost all of them were full, but at last she found one at the very end of the carriage, without a soul in it. Relieved, she went in and latched the door behind her. It was as she turned around that she realised the compartment wasn’t truly empty. 

There was a boy huddled in the corner by the window, his large brown eyes looking up at Merida in horror. Merida recognized the expression the boy wore after he smashed into her trolley.

She narrowed her eyes. “You.”

The boy swallowed, and smiled nervously. “Hello again.”

Merida turned to open the door, to find another compartment (any compartment), but as she did so, the train lurched forward, forcing her to sit down. 

“I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly. She glanced at him, confused. “About your trolley. I’m sorry I ran into your trolley. I wasn’t looking and I had a lot on my mind--- I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I guess,” Merida replied, just as awkwardly. 

They both fell silent, the only noise coming from the screeching of the wheels on the tracks beneath them. 

\----------

“But did you have to memory wipe the taxi driver?” Jack asked for the third time that morning.

“Jackson, we’ve been over this,” Professor Aster sighed. 

“He was a nice man!” the boy insisted. 

“Pretty sure he still would’ve gotten mad if we hadn’t paid the fare.”

Jack threw his hands up in exasperation. “So you just wiped his brain?”

“I Obliviated him, there’s a difference. And all he’s forgotten is our sorry faces, so I don’t think he’s missing much.”

“It still feels wrong. I thought you said you had enough money?”

“I don’t know Muggle money!” the professor protested. 

Jack crossed his arms and leaned against the window of the compartment. Professor Aster was stretched out over the seat, one of his legs dangling over the edge, his foot skimming the floor. His grey newsboy hat lay on his chest, rising and falling, matching the rhythm of his breathing. 

“Look kid,” he started, closing his eyes and sinking further into the seats, “I’m feeling tuckered out from all the...memory wiping. Why don’t you go explore?”

Jack scowled at the Professor, interpreting his suggestion as I want to sleep, please leave. With a sigh, he pushed himself away from the window and went into the hall. As he slid the door closed, he watched the Professor place his hat on his head and slip it down over his face. 

Jack rolled his eyes and glanced around. The corridor wasn’t really very notable. It was almost claustrophobically narrow, with faded blue carpeting and a high arching ceiling so people didn’t bump their heads. The only interesting thing about it was the windows set in the opposite wall. Through them, Jack could see everything of the world rushing by outside. 

The Express had left the station about a half an hour before, and now they were finally out of London, passing through the countryside. Jack had never actually left London before this. For a moment, all he could do was stare; it was so green. The hills, the trees, the hedges, even the ivy on the buildings --- everything was vibrantly, ridiculously green. He had never seen so much of one color in his life. 

He felt like he could stare forever, until someone bumped into his shoulder, jerking him out of his reverie. 

“Oi!” he exclaimed, stumbling, “watch where you’re going!”

A tall, dark skinned boy, already dressed in his robes, turned around to face him. “You watch where you’re going firstie,” he fired back. “And get back in your compartment. You’re not meant to be wanderin’ about.”

Jack scowled at the boy’s back as he walked away. With a quick glance out of the window again, he headed in the opposite direction the boy had gone in, and made his way into the next carriage. 

The next carriage wasn’t much different than the first, except almost all of the compartments were filled to the brim with first years, chatting and laughing and generally making a big ruckus. Jack had to go nearly to the end of the carriage before he found one with a spare seat. 

Inside there were only two other kids, a boy and a girl, sitting as far from each other as possible within the confines of the small compartment. The boy sat cross-legged, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed, his mop of brown hair hanging over his face, hiding his eyes. The girl sat by the window, her left leg tucked under her chin, her right bouncing wildly. She stared resolutely out the window, her red curls tucked behind her ears. 

Jack narrowed his eyes. He recognised that mane from somewhere. Diagon Alley. The girl in Madame Malkins’, having her robes fitted. Without thinking twice, he rapped smartly on the compartment door. 

Both of them turned to eye him as he opened the door and poked his head in. 

“Hey. Um, all the other compartments are full. Do you mind--?” Jack left the question hanging in the air. 

The girl shrugged her shoulders while the boy said nothing. Jack took that as a yes and closed the door behind him. 

“Hey,” he began, attempting to break the ice, “I’m Jack.”

“Jack what?” the girl asked. 

“Jack Frost.” 

“Cool name,” the girl smirked. “I’m Merida. Dunbroch. And this,” she continued, gesturing towards the boy still huddled in the corner, “is The Boy Who Smashed Into My Trolley.”

“Hey!” for the first time, the boy spoke, lifting his head so Jack could finally see his face. “I apologised for that.”

Merida simply shrugged, but Jack turned to the boy and asked him, “what’s your name really, then?”

The boy seemed to shrink back into the corner of the compartment. He muttered something unintelligible. 

“What?” Jack asked. 

The muttered reply was slightly louder this time. 

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, spit it out!” Merida cried, suddenly taking an interest. 

The boy’s face flushed scarlet as he said, “Hiccup.” 

“Do you need some water?” Merida asked, confused. 

“My name,” the boy said, somehow flushing an even deeper shade of crimson, “is Hiccup.”

Merida snorted, and Jack kicked her hanging leg. “That’s a, er, cool name too.”

Hiccup looked at Jack balefully. “You don’t have to pretend it’s cool. I know it’s stupid.”

Merida snorted again. Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, it could be worse. You could be named after a fish---” Jack stopped at the expression on Hiccup’s face.

“My last name is Haddock,” Hiccup said dully. “Hiccup Horrendous Haddock. The third.”

Merida couldn’t contain herself any longer. She burst out laughing. Jack shot her a disapproving look, although he couldn’t stop the corners of his own mouth twitching. 

Hiccup just sighed. “They’re going to call that name in front of the entire school in a few hours.”

Jack cocked his head, confused. “Wait. Why are they gonna do that?”

Merida, having recovered from her laughing fit, answered, “The Sorting Ceremony?”

“The what?”

Realisation dawned on Merida’s face. “Oh, you’re a muggle-born, ain’t ya?”

“I’m a what?”

“A muggle-born,” Hiccup chimed in, his tone matter-of-fact. “You come from a family of non-wizards.”

Jack didn’t reply straight away. Instead, he chose his words carefully. After all, he’d only just met these people. There was no need to give them his whole tragic backstory just yet.

“Yeah,” he said, “I, er, guess I do.”

“Well…since you don’t really know about magic...” Hiccup began awkwardly. Then he cleared his throat, seeming to make up his mind. ”What do you want to know?”

Jack didn’t fail to notice the sudden eagerness in his voice. Hiccup sat up and uncurled himself, as if pulling down some of his defenses. 

“Well,” Millions of questions flew through Jack’s mind. There was so much he wanted to know. But he started with something simple. “What’s the Sorting Ceremony?” Jack asked. 

Merida swung her legs onto the seat, leaning her back against the window. 

“It’s a huge celebration in The Great Hall. Like an initiation for us first years. I heard we have to perform a full patronus and battle a hippogriff and--”

“A full patronus? Don’t be ridiculous. Who told you that old nonsense?” Hiccup interrupted, exasperated. 

Merida shrugged. “Luke, one of my friends. His older brother told him that when he was a first year he had to make an invisibility potion to get accepted.”

“That’s a load of dragon dung.” Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Basically, you get placed into one of the four Hogwarts Houses by the Sorting Hat.”

“Houses?” Jack asked.

Merida sat up again. Jack quietly noted her complete inability to stay still for more than five minutes. 

“There are four houses,” she began, “Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and...Slytherin.” The last name was spoken with disdain. 

Jack frowned at her hesitation. “What’s wrong with Slytherin?”

“Slytherins are evil,” Merida stated bluntly. 

“Hey, not all Slytherins are bad,” Hiccup protested.

Merida took no notice. “Most of them are. What’s the difference?” 

Hiccup opened his mouth to retort, but seemed to think better of it. Jack watched as he seemed to sink back into the seat. 

“Anyway,” Merida continued, “we get placed into houses and we stay in those houses for the whole seven years. We get really cool dormitories, and heads-of-houses, and house colours, and quidditch teams and--”

“Quid-- what?”

“Quidditch.” Merida stopped, her eyes wide, “Merlin’s beard, you don’t know about Quidditch?!” 

They continued. Jack lost track of time, asking question after question, with Merida and Hiccup giving answer after answer. Jack learned the vital importance of Quidditch, the rules about not using Magic outside of Hogwarts, about the other wizarding schools around the world. It was only upon the arrival of the snack trolley did conversation come to a halt. 

A small, plump woman knocked lightly on their compartment door. Merida, who had been explaining the idea of Wizards Chess, stopped mid sentence. 

Jack looked towards the door as it slid open, and the woman asked, “Anything off the trolley dears?”

Merida jumped up onto the compartment seat and reached for her bag hanging over the edge of the luggage rack. Beside him, Jack saw Hiccup dig into his pocket and pull out a handful of silver and gold coins. 

“Oh,” murmured to himself as his heart sank to his toes. “You have to pay.” 

Merida jumped down from the seat, coins in hand. “Two Chocolate Frogs and a bunch of Liquorice Wands please.”

“That’ll be three silver sickles dear,” the lady replied. Jack watched as she deftly selected Merida’s order and exchanged the sweets for the silver sickels. 

Merida immediately shoved an entire licorice into her mouth, spitting out a sticky “cheers” as she sat back down and started opening her chocolate frogs. 

Hiccup glanced at the trolley, then announced that he would take two of everything he ordered; Fizzing Whizbees, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties and Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. 

When he managed to cradle the mountain of sweets in his arms, the trolley lady clicked the compartment door shut and trundled off down the hall. Hiccup dumped his treasure onto the seat and pushed almost half of it towards Jack. 

“Help yourself.” 

Jack stared at Hiccup for a moment, incredulous. “Really?” 

Hiccup shrugged and nodded. “I’m not gonna eat all of this by myself.”

Jack’s face cracked in a large grin. “Thank you,” he said, sounding like he really meant it. 

His hand hovered over his newfound stash of sweets. What on Earth was he supposed to try first? 

“I’ go wif da Ber’ie Botts Beans ‘f I were you,” Merida said with her mouth full of liquorice. 

Jack reached for the striped circus-tent like box, filled with brightly coloured jellybeans. He opened it and was about to pop a green one in his mouth when he hesitated. It had occurred to him that given he was on a train to a school of witchcraft and wizardry, there must be something special about these beans-- something he might not enjoy. 

“Wait,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the seemingly benign jelly bean,“what do they mean every flavor?”

“They mean every flavor you Dorcus,” Merida rolled her eyes. “From berry to bogies and everything in between.” Jack saw a mischievous light come into her blue eyes. “That’s the fun of it.”

Hiccup chose that moment to shove an entire Pumpkin Pasty into his mouth. He was chewing it with relish when he saw his trunk begin to move. His eyes widened and he spluttered, choking on his Pasty. 

Jack and Merida stopped their conversation. 

“Hiccup?”

“You ok there?”

Hiccup coughed and waved them off, managing to swallow the rest of the Pasty. “I’m fine,” he choked out, glancing up at the trunk. “Just went down the wrong way.”

Instinctively, the other two glanced up too, but the trunk had stopped moving. 

Brushing it off, Jack and Merida picked up the conversation where they left off, leaving Hiccup sending quick, nervous glances back up to his trunk every now and again. 

Jack suspiciously eyed the little bean, still rolling it around in his palm. “What’s this flavour then?”

Merida shrugged. “Try it and find out.”

He felt like he would regret this decision, but Jack popped the bean into his mouth anyway. Immediately, he wrinkled his nose. It tasted like a freshly mown lawn.

“People eat these things?” he asked, closing his eyes and swallowing the repulsive thing. 

Merida and Hiccup couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. 

“Yes,” Merida giggled, “they do.”

“Blech,” Jack stuck out his tongue, now green from the bean. “That was pleasant.”

“Want another?” Merida offered.

“Bring it on,” Jack replied.

The rest of the journey passed in a blur. Around one, they finished the sweets, and around three, Merida was telling them the story of how her friend Riley had snuck a wand into their Muggle school. 

“Nobody saw it, but her mum and dad still grounded her for nearly a month,” Merida giggled.

“Did she do anything with it?” Jack asked. 

Merida glanced around secretively before whispering, “She turned the headmaster’s hair piece traffic cone orange.”

Jack grinned. “I wish I’d thought of that one.” 

At five o’clock, Hiccup fell asleep, followed quickly by Merida. Jack moved to lean against the window. He pressed his face against the cool glass and watched the world fly past. 

He wondered what Jamie was doing now. More likely than not he was home from his first day back at school. This year would be his final year attending Primary. Next year was High School. A part of him felt guilty that he wouldn’t be there to look out for him. Who would protect his little brother? Then he reminded himself to stop being foolish. Even without Hogwarts and magic and the professor, Jack would have been off to High School this year. He would have bought his uniform with Jamie. He would have bought his books from the bookshop, round the corner from the orphanage. He would have walked to school every morning, and returned home in the evening, carrying maths equations and essays, just in time for dinner. He would have spent every night falling asleep to the sound of Jamie’s even breathing. He wouldn’t have been able to look after him as much as he used to...but still, he would have been there. 

What would be his homework now? To learn how to make objects fly? To practice shooting fire from the end of his wand? How to ride a broomstick?

Jack rubbed his face. Feeling a headache beginning to build just behind his eyes, he closed them, trying to stem it. 

\----------

“We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time,” a calm voice echoed through the train. 

Jack jolted awake. 

“Merida’s gone to change into her robes. We thought we’d let you sleep.”

Hiccup sat beside him, smoothing a hand over his robes in an attempt to flatten the creases. 

“Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately,” the voice continued. 

Hiccup looked up at his trunk at that, his eyes wide, and for just a moment, filled with panic. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, and Jack realized he only had five minutes to change into his robes. 

He tore out of the compartment, crazily weaving through the other students starting to throng the hall, to get back to Professor Aster. 

Two minutes later he stumbled into the compartment, only to find it empty. The professor was gone. Jack would have wondered where he had gotten to, except he knew he didn't have time. Quickly, he threw on his robes, tucked his wand into one of the deep pockets --- trying his best to ignore the ice forming at his touch --- and rushed back to the other compartment. When he arrived, rather out of breath, both Merida and Hiccup were there waiting for him. 

“Good, you're back,” Merida greeted him with a smile, but it looked tight and forced. Jack had only known the girl for less than a day, and even he could tell she was nervous. 

It hit him then. They were almost there. He reached for his wand, clutching it for reassurance. He felt the warmth creep up his fingers, calming him if only a little bit. 

Outside, the deep violet sky arched over shadowy hills and forests. There was no sign of the school. Not yet. 

Jack was debating sitting down when the train began to slow. Up ahead, he could see a village. It’s lights flickering in the night. 

After what felt like an eternity --- but, in reality, was probably no more than a few minutes --- the train finally lurched to a halt.

Hiccup took a deep breath. He looked positively ill. “Here we go.”


	7. A New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First-Years arrive at Hogwarts and the time has finally arrived for them all to be sorted into their Houses. Elsa suddenly realises just how big Hogwarts really is, and that people aren't as bad as they may first seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> E: Ok, we actually have pretty good excuses for taking this long to publish this time.
> 
> T: We were sort of in the midst of breakdowns.
> 
> E: Yes, yes, we had the dreaded exams. And the big important ones too. 
> 
> T: AP Tests. *shudders*
> 
> E: And GCSE’s. Oh, sweet GCSE’s …
> 
> T: You get the idea. It was a dark time. I know I had barely enough time to sleep let alone write.
> 
> E: However, after months of endless revision, we’ve come out the other side and are back to writing! ( yay )
> 
> T: So in reward for your patience, we give you a very long, extensively edited chapter. We can’t promise another one will come before the start of the next school year, but we promise we’ll try.
> 
> E: Also, make sure to check out Taylor’s latest fic on her own account -- I Am The Eleventh. If you love Teen Wolf, you’ll love this. I know I do. But then again, I may be slightly biased. 
> 
> T: Awwww stahp.
> 
> E: No, you stahp! *blushes*
> 
> T: Don’t start! Anyway, thank you guys so much for your reviews and your support! It means a lot to us. 
> 
> E: With any luck, we’ll be back with Chapter 8 soon.
> 
> T: Okay okay, we can’t stall forever. Enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: As much as we wish we could wrap these characters up and take them home with us, we’ve been informed by our imaginary lawyers that could get us in a bit of trouble. So we won’t do that, or even pretend they’re ours. They’re not. Unfortunately neither is Hogwarts. Clear?

“Here we go,” Rapunzel whispered, her voice tight with excitement. 

 

Elsa nodded and tried for a smile, feeling like there was a snowstorm raging in her stomach. Why couldn't she just get butterflies like everybody else? 

 

The cousins stood in the corridor of the Express, surrounded by other First-Years. Some of them looked positively elated to be there, like Rapunzel, but most of them looked sick to their stomachs, like they had snowstorms of their own to deal with. 

 

Any second now, the doors would open and they would disembark. Rapunzel couldn't wait for that moment. Elsa wished it would never come. 

 

Outside the window was a quiet, deserted platform, no different to the ones Muggles used at King’s Cross. It was now completely dark outside, with only several ancient lampposts dotted all the way down the side of the stop providing a dim light. This combined with the thick fog only increased Elsa’s anxiety. This didn’t feel like the warm welcome she had expected. 

 

Rapunzel must have seen her face, as the next moment her hand was in her cousin’s and the doors screeched open. 

 

The swarm of First-Years pushed forwards, shoving and clambering over one another in order to get onto the platform first. Elsa clung tighter to Rapunzel’s hand, determined not to lose her in the chaos. 

 

When they reached the end of the corridor, Elsa was almost thankful to be getting off the train. Rapunzel dragged her level with her and they hopped onto the platform together. The September air was freezing, Elsa could see her breath clouding in the air, and she wondered how the train had been kept so warm before she remembered the amount of charms that must have been cast on the Express over the years. 

 

“First-Years, this way! Follow me!” a voice shouted over the racket of students piling out of the carriages.

 

Elsa stood on her tiptoes, peering over the sea of heads to see a large, grubby man who had appeared at the far end of the platform, shouting and holding a lantern above his head. He had dirty-blonde hair and a long, braided moustache which just about reached the top of his pot-belly. Over his broad shoulders, he wore some kind of animal pelt and a tight-fitting shirt. Elsa was almost positive that shirt was an entirely different colour, underneath all the grime and stains smeared all over it. But the strangest, ( and frankly most frightening ) thing about him was the ghastly hook that held the lantern instead of his hand. The lantern swung haphazardly from it, throwing flickering light that reflected off the hook. 

 

Many of the First-Years eyed that hook with a mix of fear and fascination.

 

Beside her, Elsa felt Rapunzel squeeze her hand. 

 

“He looks … friendly,” Rapunzel whispered. Elsa wondered if they were seeing the same person. 

 

Together, they joined the crowd of First-Years as they followed the strange hook-man down a dark hillside path. The girls clung tightly to one another as they tried to keep their footing. He led them to a group of small boats, beached in a line on the dark shore of a lake, each only large enough for four people. The fog lay over the surface of the lake like a blanket. Elsa remembered her parents telling her you could almost always see Hogwarts from the edge of the lake, but tonight the fog was so thick it obscured all but the brightest lights twinkling in the distance.

 

The hook-man clambered into one of the boats in the middle of the group, taking up two seats by himself. Elsa made to stand patiently near the back of the crowd to wait their turn, but her cousin had other ideas. She dragged Elsa to the front and practically shoved her into one of the empty boats. Eventually, two more people joined them. Once everyone was in, the hook-man threw his hook forward and shouted “GO!” and the boats began to move. 

 

Elsa gripped the side of the boat as it rocked from side to side. The fog from the lake engulfed them so Elsa had to squint to see the boats next to theirs. 

 

“Now,” the hook-man’s voice suddenly boomed, somewhere to her left, “ye can usually see Hogwarts from the lake as we approach. But tonight, thanks to this damned fog, ye might be seeing nothin’.”

 

Elsa heard a chorus of disappointed sighs from the students. 

 

“Unless, of course,” he continued, “I do this.” 

 

She couldn’t see what the “this” was, but within moments, the fog cleared, affording them a view of a magnificent castle. 

 

It was unlike anything she’d ever seen. It sat atop a mountain, its many turrets towering far above their heads into a sky full of stars. Hundreds of lights, dotted all over the castle walls, were reflected in the smooth surface of the lake. It looked just like a place where you might expect magic to happen. 

 

“It’s  _ huge! _ ” Rapunzel gasped, practically bouncing in her seat. 

 

“It’s beautiful,” Elsa sighed. For the first time since she’d left home, she forgot about her worries. She was just another witch, ready to start her journey at the greatest school of magic in the world. 

 

In another moment, the castle disappeared, replaced by the roof of a tunnel in the cliff face the castle stood on. The boats slowly came to a stop in a cave, jolting against the rocks. One by one, students clambered out of the boats to follow the hook-man and his lamp to the path leading to a patch of grass outside. They stood in the shadow of the castle for a moment, craning their necks, trying to take in all of it at once. 

 

While they gawked, the hook-man took a quiet headcount. Once he was sure everyone was there, he gestured with the lamp, and the students followed him one more time up the stone stairs to the doors of the castle. 

 

They all stopped outside the doors and everyone fell silent. Elsa could feel the anticipation begin to build as they waited for the giant oak doors to open. 

 

After moving the lantern from his hook to his hand, the man lifted it and knocked three times on the heavy doors. Well, maybe knocked isn’t the right word. With the force he used and the noise he made, it sounded more like banging than knocking. 

 

The doors creaked open, seemingly of their own accord. No one was there. The students milled around in confusion. Wasn’t someone supposed to greet them? 

 

Their half formed thoughts and suppositions were scattered when the hook-handed man nudged a few of them forward, indicating they were to enter the hall. 

 

Rather hesitantly, they filed in. Elsa still half expected one of the professors to greet them, but there wasn’t anyone other than the hook-man and a group of anxious First-Years in sight. 

 

Then, as the door closed behind them, one of the girls near the front of the group cried out: “Oh my MERLIN!”

 

Then another squealed in response: “It’s so CUUUUTE!”

 

Rapunzel and Elsa exchanged a glance. Elsa’s said,  _ Let’s just stay here.  _ Rapunzel’s was more along the lines of  _ Let’s check it out. _

 

Elsa planted her feet this time, but somehow Rapunzel still managed to tug her through the crowd to the front once more. She wondered how it happened that her cousin always seemed to be dragging her unwillingly  _ somewhere.  _

 

Rapunzel, by nature of dragging her cousin, reached the front first, and gasped. 

 

“What is it?” Elsa stood behind her, her view blocked by the gaggle of girls crowding around whatever this ‘cute’ thing was. 

 

“It’s a  _ BUNNY! _ ” Rapunzel whisper-shouted. 

 

“A bunny?!” Elsa whispered back, becoming increasingly aware of more and more people pushing and shoving behind her, trying to get a glimpse of what was causing all the fuss. “What in Merlin’s name is it doing here?”

 

“I have no idea but it looks really soft and I’m gonna pet it.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t---” Elsa cautioned, but it was too late. Her cousin was already not only petting the strange rabbit, but  _ picking it up.  _ The rabbit was gray, and indeed fluffy, with odd stripes and swirls of darker fur along its back. It seemed harmless enough, but Elsa could swear it was glaring at Rapunzel as it twitched its little pink nose. She only had the creature in her arms for a moment before it rather violently leapt from them back to the stone floor. 

 

“Oh!” Rapunzel exclaimed, for suddenly the rabbit wasn’t a rabbit anymore. It was a slightly miffed-looking man.

 

The entire crowd of First-Years fell silent. Somewhere behind her, Elsa heard someone mutter “Awkward.”

 

The man crossed his arms over his long, grey robes. With steely green eyes, he surveyed the crowd, hesitating only for a moment somewhere in the middle. Elsa wondered if maybe he knew someone, but no sooner had she looked over her shoulder to see, he’d begun to speak.

 

“I’m an animagus,” he said, his voice stern and tight, “and I don’t appreciate students calling me  _ cute. _ ” His eyes narrowed at Rapunzel, who had dropped her head in order to hide her red cheeks. 

 

“My name is Professor Aster, head of Gryffindor House,” the professor introduced himself, puffing his chest out with pride, “welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” 

 

Excited chatter rose from the huddle of First-Years. Elsa nudged Rapunzel as she finally lifted her head, and the two sent each other eager grins. 

 

“Before you take your seats for the feast in the Great Hall, you’ll be sorted into a House. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. You might’ve heard of these Houses before you came here, or this could all be a nice surprise for you. Whatever you’ve heard, know that each House has turned out truly great witches and wizards, and whichever House you’re sorted into will welcome you like family.” The First Years nodded. “Alright, now follow me.”

 

The professor turned and led them into a small empty chamber to the right of the Great Hall. The muffled murmur of students’ voices came weakly through the stone walls, but when the professor closed the door, the noise was silenced completely. Elsa wondered how many people were in the Great Hall. It would have to be a lot for any of the noise they made to make it through the thick walls. An awful lot. The idea of going out in front of so many people terrified her almost as much as the idea of being sorted did. 

 

Professor Aster coughed to gain their attention. “Wait here while I check that they’re ready for you. Please don’t break anything.” Elsa looked around, wondering what he was talking about. There was nothing in the room to break. 

 

The professor disappeared behind a small door, leaving the huddle of First-Years alone.

 

In the sudden silence, someone burst out laughing. Quite loudly. Every head turned to a brown-haired boy doubled over in a fit of giggles. 

 

“What’s so funny?” someone asked. The boy just continued to laugh, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. 

 

“H-He’s, he’s a  _ bunny! _ ” he wheezed, and as soon as he’d said it, began to laugh even harder. 

 

“So?” Elsa heard Rapunzel pipe up, her cheeks flushing deep red at the memory of her little mistake with the professor. “He’s an animagus. Lots of wizards are.”

 

“No no no,” the boy chuckled, “you don’t understand. His name is Bunnymund.  _ Bunny _ mund.”

 

Beside him, a small, weedy-looking boy covered his face, apparently a victim of secondhand embarrassment. Meanwhile, the red-head next to him snorted, trying to contain her own laughter when he said  _ Bunnymund _ . Elsa heard someone to her right begin to giggle as well. And another, and another. 

 

“Guys,” Elsa hissed, “shh! What if he hears us?”

 

That shut everyone up rather quickly, except for the boy who started it all. He was still in mild hysterics. Elsa glanced nervously at the door, fearful of the professor’s imminent return. 

 

“Seriously,” she threw a frigid glare at the boy, “be quiet!”

 

The red-head must have seen Elsa’s panicked look, because she rather abruptly whacked him on the arm. 

 

“Oi!” he cried out. “Merida! What was that for?”

 

“For not shutting up, Frost.”

 

The door to the side opened and the professor re-entered, looking around suspiciously as if he suspected something happened while he was away. His gaze landed on “Frost”, who met it without flinching, as if daring the professor to call him out. The professor rolled his eyes at the boy. 

 

“Ok, they’re ready for you. Let’s go, kids.”

 

Instinctively, Elsa reached for her cousin’s hand as the wooden door creaked open and the First-Years filed through.

 

The Great Hall was magnificent. Four long tables ran the length of the hall, with hundreds upon hundreds of students squished together on the benches. Above them, thousands of floating candles cast a bright flickering light which was mirrored on the golden plates and goblets covering the tables. 

 

Behind the First-Years, there was another long table where the teachers were sitting. In the center, on a high, golden chair was Nicholas North, headmaster of Hogwarts. In front of him, there was a brown, tattered witch’s hat atop a stool. 

 

Elsa glanced upward, looking for the enchanted ceiling. She remembered her mother saying it was her favorite part of the hall. Being able to look up and stare at the night sky. Tonight, the fog crept into the edges of the ceiling, but the highest points remained inky black and dotted with millions of stars. Elsa felt a little ache in her heart, being reminded of her mother so far from home. 

 

Then her gaze landed on the hundreds of faces looking at the stage. She expected them to be focused on her and the many other new students - some of them were - but most of the attention was fixed on the stool. Or rather, the hat on top of it. 

 

And then the hat moved. 

 

A mouth made from a rip near the brim opened, and the hat began to sing. 

 

Elsa couldn’t believe her eyes or ears. She had been at the school for ten minutes and already encountered a singing hat. She didn’t remember any of the older wizards she knew ever mentioning a  _ singing hat.  _

 

The older students seemed to blithely accept the fact of the singing hat as they swayed along to its song -- some even looked bored. Elsa wondered to herself at what point in one’s magical career a singing hat became commonplace. Meanwhile the First-Years, just like her, were staring dumbfounded as the hat’s raspy song rang out to the Hall.

 

Elsa swore she could hear Frost behind her, struggling with all his might not to laugh. She had half a mind to send him another glare, but she couldn’t take her eyes away from the performance in front of her. 

 

The song continued, going over all the Houses, their best traits and worst qualities. Some of them Elsa knew already. Strangely enough, the Hat never once called Slytherin House evil. But that didn’t make her warm to it any more. 

 

“ _ So heed my words, _

_ Don’t be afraid! _

_ Just try me on and see! _

_ I know my stuff, _

_ I’ll put you just _

_ Right where you ought to be!” _

 

The entire hall erupted into applause, students and teachers alike clapping and whooping loudly. Elsa thought she heard someone from the table to the far right scream “WE LOVE YOU SORTY!”

 

The hat bowed to each of the four tables and grew still again. Professor Aster stepped forward. From the table second from the right, another roaring round of applause welcomed him, which he acknowledged with a nod in their direction and a small smile.

 

“When I call your name, you will come forward and put the hat on to be sorted,” he announced. “Ready?”

 

None of the First-Years answered. Elsa doubted any of them were ready. 

 

Without further ado, he pulled a scroll from his robes and opened it to read the first name:

 

“Arendelle, Elsa!”

 

Elsa’s heart stopped beating. She felt her entire body turn to ice and all the blood drain from her face. Someone, probably Rapunzel, pushed her forward. 

 

Elsa stumbled, looking nervously over her shoulder at her cousin’s beaming face. “Go!” she whispered. Elsa didn’t respond, but just took a shaky foot forward, one after another, until she reached the stool.

 

Professor Aster appeared at her shoulder, sending her a reassuring smile. He lifted the tattered hat by its point and gestured for her to sit. Elsa turned to face the school and practically fell onto the seat. 

 

No sooner had she got a chance to look at all the faces staring at her, the hat slipped over her eyes and a small voice whispered in her ear, making her flinch. 

 

_ “I don’t bite, you know _ , _ ” _ the hat whispered. 

 

_ No, I don’t know,  _ Elsa thought. 

 

_ “Hm, I suppose you’ve a point there. But let’s get down to business.” _

 

_ Business? _

 

_ “Why yes, the business of what’s inside your head. I’ve got a lot of students to sort you know.” _

 

Elsa frowned, the brim of the hat sinking lower over her eyes. Only a moment later the hat spoke again.

 

_ “Oh my dear, you’re driven. And you have power, lots of it. But you’re terrified of it! Hm, curious. You’re intelligent too. You want to succeed-- and to make those parents of yours proud. What about… Slytherin?” _

 

For the second time in so many minutes, Elsa’s heart stopped.  _ Not Slytherin, please, not Slytherin. _

 

_ “Not Slytherin? But Slytherin is perfect for you. You have ambition, you’re loyal and have an eager mind. A dark horse indeed. You’ll be a fantastic witch someday, a credit to Slytherin House.” _

 

Before Elsa could plead with the hat again, she heard its voice shouting to the whole hall the very words she’d been dreading: “SLYTHERIN!”

 

Professor Aster yanked the hat off her head as the table to the far right of the hall jumped to their feet, clapping and cheering for her, gesturing for her to join them. She looked to her left and saw Rapunzel staring at her. Before she could read the expression on her cousin’s face, Professor Aster tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to the Slytherin table. Elsa felt almost too numb to move, but somehow she found herself walking towards her new House. 

 

When she arrived, an older student grinned at her and slid over to make room for her at the table. Elsa sat, smiling nervously. Several students leaned forward to shake her hand and introduce themselves. The blur of names and faces didn’t stick in her mind at all. She had forgotten all of them by the time the table quieted down again and waited for the hat to sort the next student. 

 

“Arthur, Lewis!”

 

A boy with buck teeth and curly blonde hair stumbled up to the stool next. The hall fell silent. Elsa wondered if it had been this tense when she was the one sitting on the stool. 

 

“RAVENCLAW!”

 

Two tables away, a polite round of applause welcomed Lewis to his new House. Several students stood to shake his hand firmly, giving him warm smiles and exchanging a few words of congratulations. 

 

And so the ceremony continued. There were quite a few B’s to get through. Baker, Berry, Bingley, Blightley, Bolls, Bones, Buxton, Byles. Then began the C’s. Carter, Carmen, Cerra, and---

 

“Corona, Rapunzel!”

 

Her cousin practically skipped up to the stool, her long golden hair trailing on the floor as she sat down. Elsa crossed her fingers, silently hoping her cousin might somehow end up in Slytherin with her. However, almost as soon as the hat touched her head it shouted “RAVENCLAW!”

 

Elsa’s heart sank as her cousin waved at her on her way to the slowly-filling Ravenclaw table. She watched gloomily as Rapunzel greeted her Housemates and sat down between two girls in another year. 

 

Elsa barely bothered to pay attention to the rest of the C’s. She kept sending glances over her shoulder, hoping to catch Rapunzel’s eye, but each time found her cousin in deep conversation with another student. So far, she and another boy named Jake Cooper had been the only ones sorted into Slytherin. Her Housemates had said nothing more to her since she’d sat down, mostly due to the respectful silence they kept for the Sorting Hat.

 

At some point, she noticed the red-headed girl sitting on the stool, the hat somewhat squishing her wild curls. After only a few seconds, “GRYFFINDOR _! _ ” was shouted to the hall and the table next to hers exploded into wild screaming. Professor Aster gave her a pat on the back as he pulled the hat off her head. The girl, Merida, seemed happy enough with her placing as she sat directly behind Elsa, turning immediately back to the Sorting. 

 

Ealing, Edgar, Enfield; Elsa barely batted an eyelid, until:

 

“Fitzherbert, Eugene!”

 

Unlike all the others, Eugene confidently swaggered up to the stool and Sorting Hat. He sat tall with the hat on his head, even as the hat took its sweet time in deciding. It was almost five minutes later the hat finally called out “SLYTHERIN!”

 

Eugene jogged over to her table, high fiving people over her shoulder before sitting down directly opposite her. 

 

“That was a bit of a hat stall wasn’t it?” the girl sitting next to Elsa commented. 

 

“Yeah it was,” another boy sitting across from them chimed in. 

 

Eugene shrugged. “It was stuck between Slytherin and Gryffindor.”

 

The other boy sniggered. “Clearly it made the right choice.”

 

Elsa thought she saw Merida turning around to their table, but as the next name was called out, all attention was back to the front of the hall. 

 

“Frost, Jackson!”

 

The boy who had been laughing in the side-room before the sorting now walked to the centre of the platform, glaring at the professor almost the entire way.

 

Professor Aster let the Sorting Hat fall over the boy’s eyes. The Great Hall hushed once more. 

 

The hat took its time. Elsa wondered what House the boy could possibly fit into. Just as long as it wasn’t Slytherin, then she was ---

 

“ _ SLYTHERIN! _ ”

 

The boy removed the hat from his head and handed it to the professor, who gave him a strange look. The boy must have been just as confused as Elsa was, as he simply frowned and made his way towards her table. 

 

Eugene got to his feet and welcomed the boy with another high-five before pulling him down beside him. 

 

“Come to join the cool kids?” Eugene laughed. 

 

“Cool kids with the name Eugene?” the girl next to Elsa mocked playfully.

 

“It’s Flynn, actually. Flynn Rider,” For a moment Elsa thought he was joking, but from the dead serious look in his brown eyes, it was clear that he was not. 

 

“Nice to meet you Flynn,” Frost shook his hand. 

 

“You too Jackson.”

 

“Just Jack,” Frost rolled his eyes. “I could swear the professor read it that way just to annoy me."

 

Elsa listened to the two boys’ conversation, glancing over her shoulder again to check on Rapunzel. She wondered whether she’d be in any of her cousin’s classes, or be able to sit with her at meals … someone else noticed her staring. The girl next to her tapped her on the shoulder. 

 

“Hi, I’m Christine.”

 

“Elsa,” she responded, reluctantly turning  away from her cousin. 

 

“You know her?”

 

“She’s my cousin. I didn’t think we’d get sorted into different Houses …”

 

Christine shrugged. “Happens sometimes. My brother’s over there in Hufflepuff.”

 

“Really? Do you have any classes with him?”

 

“Sometimes, but I don’t worry about it much. We’re supposed to stick to our House, you know.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Our Houses are our family now,” Christine said seriously,  “and those families just don’t mix.”

 

“Oh …” Elsa murmured, staring longingly at her cousin. “I see.” 

 

“Come on, pay attention. There might be another Slytherin next.”

 

“Hiccup is up soon,” Elsa heard Jack say to Flynn. 

 

“Hiccup? What kind of a name is that?” Flynn asked, snickering.

 

“I dunno, what kind of a name is Eugene?” Merida piped up from the Gryffindor table. 

 

Flynn flushed a deep red. 

 

“How’s life at the stinky Gryffindor table, Dunbroch?” Jack teased.

 

“Depends, how’s life at the slimy Slytherin table, Frost?” Merida retorted. 

 

“Fine and dandy, thanks for asking,” 

 

Elsa flicked between the two, trying to figure out whether they were joking with one another or not. Sarcasm was never her strong suit. But based on the snort Merida let out at most of Jack’s comments, she guessed they were friends. She wondered how that would fly with Christine.

 

“Haddock, Hiccup!”

 

Both Jack and Merida instantly spun in their seats, watching intently as the boy who’d covered his face in the side room now looked equally uncomfortable heading towards the stool. As he sat down, the stool wobbled and he waved his arms in the air to keep his balance. Elsa heard Christine laugh beside her while Jack and Merida both winced in sympathy. 

 

“He’s  _ so _ a Hufflepuff,” Christine muttered. Other Slytherins nodded in agreement. 

 

Sure enough, a few moments later, the hat screamed “HUFFLEPUFF!” to enthusiastic cheering from the table all the way across the room. Little Hiccup shakily made his way toward them, but before he could quite sit down, one of the older students stood up and gave him a tight hug. Hiccup looked too bewildered to react. 

 

Elsa saw Jack and Merida smile before Merida jumped in her seat and gasped as “Howler, Riley,” was called and quickly named a Gryffindor. 

 

The girls quickly embraced, sitting down and immediately getting into a deep conversation. Elsa couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. 

 

“You’ve been replaced,” Flynn nudged Jack with his shoulder, who nudged back. 

 

“Nonsense, I’m irreplaceable.”

 

To Elsa, the ceremony seemed to drag on forever. More names were called, and more of Merida’s friends sorted. A boy named Luke Morset was sorted into Slytherin and Merida once again turned around and joined in talking with the Slytherin table. Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa saw Christine send dirty looks Merida’s way, as if such a person should not be mingling with students from her own House, but Merida took no notice. Having Merida strike up a conversation with Jack, Flynn and Luke gave her an excuse to turn around and try to catch Rapunzel’s eye. 

 

Rapunzel was sandwiched between a girl with thick black hair, and a dark-skinned girl with big eyes. They looked nice enough, pausing in their conversation only in respect to the sorting. Elsa felt her heart sink at the fact her cousin hadn’t even looked up to find her amongst the sea of students in the Great Hall. 

 

The final name was called, “Zharnel, Patricia”, who was sorted into Hufflepuff, and the hall fell totally silent as Nicholas North stood.

 

Elsa sat up straighter, twining her fingers in front of her. She remembered a little of what her father had said about the headmaster, in and out of her hearing. He was powerful, a man to be respected. But also soft. And not in a good way. Elsa tried to line up what her father had told her with what she saw.

 

The headmaster was tall, and the way he stood, ramrod straight, with his broad shoulders pushed back, made him seem even taller. His deep red robes fit him loosely, and were embroidered with beautiful gold and green thread, in patterns that described deer, rabbits, trees swaying in the breeze. A living forest. Elsa blinked. They were so detailed, the animals almost looked alive---they  _ were  _ alive. The embroidery was moving, just like a photograph or a painting would.

 

Professor North stroked his gray beard, choosing his words before he spoke. His dark, bushy eyebrows gave him a severe, serious look.

 

“Welcome, welcome! First-Years and returning students, to another term at Hogwarts,” he smiled, and suddenly that severity vanished. “And thank you, once again to the Sorting Hat, who continues to impress with his lyricism.” 

 

The hat bowed and, for the first time that night, Elsa joined in with the polite applause. 

 

“Before we begin the feast, I’d like to make a few announcements. To all First-Years, the Forbidden Forest and Black Lake are strictly out of bounds.”

 

“Unless you’re really desperate to meet a giant grumpy squid,” Christine muttered near Elsa’s ear.

 

“And secondly,” North continued, “I’d like to welcome our new school nurse,  Miss Toothiana Fae.”

 

A petite young woman jumped up from her seat before the headmaster had finished his sentence. She smiled nervously before clearing her throat and saying, “You can just call me Tooth.”

 

Elsa blinked and the woman was back in her seat, jittering with nerves. Elsa couldn’t blame her. She’d been exactly the same. 

 

North turned back to the students, a knowing smile on his face. 

 

“And now, enjoy.”

 

With a wave of his hand, the goldware and empty platters were suddenly filled with more food than Elsa had ever seen on one table, even at the parties her parents threw for their bosses at the Ministry. 

 

Tall towers of potatoes and parsnips were interspersed between piles of roast chicken and beef and pork and fish. Bowls of vegetables were dotted everywhere and boats of gravy were already floating down the table. Elsa knew if she thought too much about it, she would never actually pick something, so she served herself a random assortment of meat and vegetables and started to eat. Across from her, Jack and Flynn did the same, piling their plates as if they hadn’t eaten in days. 

 

Christine tapped her on the shoulder. “Pumpkin juice?”

 

Elsa wrinkled her nose and shook her head, her mouth full of carrots.

 

“I don’ b’ame you,” the boy called Luke piped up with a mouth full of mash, “i’s vile stuff.”

 

Christine rolled her eyes and took a casual sip. “Suit yourself.”

 

“Who are all of them?” Jack asked, nodding towards the High Table. 

 

“Are you a muggleborn?”

 

Another boy, with a rather long nose and soft auburn hair, leaned forward, inviting himself into their conversation. Elsa looked from the boy and back to Jack. Of course. Why hadn’t she noticed before?  _ Of course  _ he was a muggleborn. 

 

“What?” Jack asked, pausing in his meal. Elsa noticed Flynn had stopped too. 

 

“A muggleborn,” the boy repeated, slower, “meaning born of muggles.”

 

Elsa frowned, but remained silent. The boy’s patronising was unnecessary. Christine choked into her drink, laughing at what the boy had said. 

 

“Why?” Flynn asked. “Does it matter?”

 

The boy shook his head, “Well, anybody who’s parents came to Hogwarts would have heard all the stories about the teaching staff. I know my brothers told me plenty.”

 

Elsa swallowed and spoke up, shocked her voice wasn’t shaking. “Everybody can’t be expected to know  _ all  _ the professors at the High Table, muggleborn or not.  _ I  _ certainly don’t. Who’s that? Next to Professor Aster?”

 

The boy looked up at the High Table. “That’s Professor Mann, charms teacher. Doesn’t speak much. Rumour is he got cursed a couple of years back while fighting a dark wizard or something.” 

 

Elsa watched as Professor Mann struggled to impale a sprout onto his fork with his stubby hands. It pinballed off his plate and onto Professor Asters’s. 

 

“And the other side of Professor North?” Jack asked.

 

The boy didn’t even bother to look up from his plate this time. “Professor Gothel. She’s Head of our House.”

 

The woman in question wore a black velvet robe over a scarlet dress. Her black curls, well kept and tamed, framed a sharp chin and nose. Her gray eyes were lined, but not from smiling. She merely poked the food on her plate before placing her fork on the table and sinking back in her chair. Elsa felt her stomach churn just looking at her.

 

“Is she as friendly as she looks?” Flynn asked, raising an eyebrow at Jack. 

 

“Have some respect,” Christine snapped, “she’s an excellent witch and a fine teacher. She’s the only professor I can think of that could make History of Magic interesting.”

 

“What about the empty seat at the end of the table? Who usually sits there?” Luke asked.

 

Christine and the boy shared a look, before the boy said, “The Transfiguration teacher.”

 

Elsa waited for him to continue but instead he introduced himself. 

 

“I’m Hans, Hans Isle, by the way, if any of you are even remotely interested.”

 

Jack completely ignored this and asked, “But where’s the trans---the trans-- that teacher?”

 

“I don’t know,” Christine said, her voice much quieter now. Everyone subconsciously leaned closer. “But it’s unusual for North to not mention it. It must be something serious.”

 

Hans nodded in agreement. “It must be recent too. They haven’t got a replacement.”

 

“Couldn’t she just be ill?” Jack asked, but Hans and Christine merely sniggered at him.

 

“Wizards and witches don’t get  _ ill, _ ” Christine said, returning back to her meal before shaking her head and adding, “muggleborns.”

 

Elsa cringed. The older girl continued to throw that word about, but she didn’t have any  _ proof _ . Elsa was tempted to say something to her-- but her previous bravery had abandoned her. She didn’t want to start an argument her first night. Besides, she had to be grateful neither Christine nor Hans had called them by the  _ other _ term.

 

Hans and Christine talked them through the rest of the professors; Professor Crow, a batty old witch who was Head of Ravenclaw, the brothers Stabbington , who both taught flying (at the mention of flying, Jack had nearly choked on a carrot ), Drago Bludvist, the school caretaker, Professor P ( what the P stood for, Elsa didn’t ask ), a half-troll, half-man who taught Astronomy, and Professor Hookhand, teacher of Herbology. 

 

“Wait, there are  _ two _ teachers with hooks for hands?” Flynn interjected. 

 

Hans nodded. “Professor Hookhand, the one who actually teaches, lost his entire fist to a man-eating plant he once found in Latvia. The other teacher with a hook for a hand, the one who led you here on the boats, is Gobber. Care of Magical Creatures.”

 

Hans said the name with disgust, as if the job were too low to earn his respect. 

 

Elsa kept her head down, playing with the remainder of the food on her plate. Behind her, she heard Merida snort with laughter over a joke one of the Gryffindor students had told, the entire section of the table giggling with one another. Then she looked over her shoulder at the Ravenclaw table, all in deep in conversations and topical debates. Rapunzel smiled widely at someone further down her table. Elsa felt another pang of hurt in her chest. The Hufflepuff’s were the quietest of all the tables, sitting calm and collected but not one person was left out. All the students somehow already knew each other. Even Hiccup, the weedy friend of Jack and Merida’s, seemed to be having a good time. 

 

Then she looked back at her own table. Smaller groups of students were laughing and smiling, but several, like her, sat in their own bubbles. Hans and Christine had settled into their own discussion about the new flavour of Bertie Botts Bean, when something bounced off her face. 

 

Flynn picked up the pea he had just thrown at her. “Hey, so, mind talking me and Jack through this whole flying thing?”

 

Elsa blinked. “Me?”

 

Flynn stared blankly at her. “Yes. Please?”

 

Elsa looked at their faces, eager to know more about magic. She suddenly realised how strange this must all be to muggleborns, who had never grown up with magic, never seen spells performed or ridden a broomstick, had never even  _ heard _ of Hogwarts. The thought alone made her feel more confident. 

 

She nodded at the boys. “Of course,” then she smiled for the first time since being sorted. “What would you like to know?”

 

At some point in their conversation, the food disappeared and was replaced by hot drinks, biscuits and an abundance of cakes and pastries. Elsa had underestimated the amount of questions the boys had. 

 

_ What do you fly on? How come witches and wizards never get ill? What’s trans-- transm  -- transfo--- _

 

_ Transfiguration. _

 

_ \---That? _

 

Elsa answered them all, or tried to. She told them about broomsticks, and Quidditch, and how magic protected witches and wizards from all diseases, except magical ones. She told them how transfiguration was just turning things into other things, and how her mother had a tendency to turn any mice in their home into new teacups for her china set.

 

“Can wizards and witches specify in a certain area?” Jack asked suddenly.

 

Elsa paused, thinking carefully about her answer. “Well, yes. Like herbology for instance --”

 

“What about elements or specific powers?” Jack interrupted, then paused, aware he’d been a bit rude.

 

Elsa felt her stomach drop. “Why?”

 

Jack seemed to read her expression, quickly saying “Just curious. I read a fantasy book about elemental wizards and stuff when I was younger. I wondered if it was true, but I guess it doesn’t matter.” 

 

Elsa sighed, trying not to show her relief. A part of her, the rational part, doubted the question had been random. But for now, she was happy to let it go. 

 

The hall began to settle again and Elsa noticed Professor North was back to standing at the High Table. The remains of their meal vanished, leaving the dishes and utensils sparkling clean. 

 

“I know I said this at the beginning of the meal, but I know many of you have short memories, so I’ll say it again, just for you: The Forbidden Forest and Black Lake are  _ very  _ dangerous and considered  _ off limits _ . Don’t do it, okay? Okay.

 

“Anyone who would like to try out for their House Quidditch team may do so through the Professors Stabbington, either one, doesn’t really matter. Trials will be held next week.

 

“Our caretaker, Mr. Bludvist would like to remind you that magic in the halls between classes is also forbidden, and will result in the loss of quite a few House points. Nobody wants that yes? Good. 

 

“Finally, I’m sure you’ll all be delighted to know that our friendly neighbourhood poltergeist, Pitch, has taken up residence on the 4th Floor, outside the girls toilets. Please, for your own sakes, try not to disturb him. We don’t want to be dealing with an incident like last year, now, do we?”

 

“What happened last year?” Luke whispered quite loudly. 

 

Hans shuddered. “He threw Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder down the hallways non-stop for a month. It was chaos. Actually ended up being the reason our last nurse left. She couldn’t handle the stress of dealing with Pitch and the aftermath of his ‘jokes’.”

 

Elsa almost laughed. She’d heard about Pitch the Poltergeist. Rapunzel had once wrapped herself in one of her father’s ministry robes, pretending to be him when they were little and proceeded to chase her around the garden for hours. 

 

“Now, First-Years, please follow the Prefects to your common rooms. Sleep well, all of you, as tomorrow, term begins.”

 

Elsa turned, looking for her House prefects. She found them standing at the end of the table; an Indian girl with her hair pulled back into a neat plait and a pale, highly freckled boy, their prefect badges gleaming in the light of the floating candles. 

 

“Hello First-Years!” the girl smiled and waved as the rest of the house trickled out of the Hall on their way to the common room. “I'm Penny, and this is Blake! Just follow us and we’ll get you to the common room.” 

 

Their little group left, Penny leading the way, Blake bringing up the rear to watch for stragglers. They immediately went to the first staircase leading downwards, continuing on until they reached the very bottom level of the castle. It was black as pitch down there, and based on the other students’ shivering, quite chilly as well. But Elsa didn't feel the cold. The prefects whispered  _ Lumos,  _ and held up their wands to shed some light.

 

“Where are we?” one of the other students asked, sounding more than a little unsettled. 

 

“We’re in the dungeons,” Blake said gently. “But there's nothing to be scared of.”

 

“Our common room is just a little further,” Penny called. 

 

After a right, a left, and another right, the group came upon...a blank stone wall.

 

“Where is it?” Jack whispered. 

 

“Right here,” Penny laughed. “It will only open with a password, so you’d better pay attention.”

 

“Our common room is very secure,” Blake added seriously. “No one outside of Slytherin House has been inside in over 200 years, and we take great pride in that--”

 

“--so be sure to be careful with the password!” Penny finished. “We don't want to break tradition.”

 

“It changes every two weeks,” Blake said. “And it'll be posted on the message board, but for now the password is  _ venom.” _

 

At the last word, the wall moved to the side to reveal a second wall, but this one had a passage through it. Penny climbed in, and the First-Years and Blake followed her.

 

Elsa found herself in a long, low room, with rough stone walls covered in ornate tapestries and serpent-like lamps. Medieval knights and wizards gallivanted across framed paintings, slaying dragons and performing great feats of magic. There was a fire roaring in the hearth, and several dark leather couches crowded around it, as if warming themselves against the chill of the dungeons. There were also some windows between the tapestries, but Elsa couldn't see anything out of them. Just darkness. No stars. 

 

Blake saw her puzzled expression and explained, “The common room extends into the lake. We can't see any stars, but we do get a cool view of the mermaids and the giant squid.”

 

Mermaids? Before Elsa could ask him another question, Penny spoke up, “Boys dorms on the left, girls on the right. Girls, follow me,”  before proceeding down the corridor to the right. 

 

Elsa and the few other girls followed obediently. Penny dropped them off in a room with five beds, each with its own black wooden trunk at its foot and dark green translucent canopies hiding the bed itself from onlookers. The floor was marbled stone, and glinted as she walked from the door to her bed. Slowly, she pulled aside the canopy to reveal an emerald duvet and gray sheets.

 

At the sight of an actual bed, Elsa realized how exhausted she was. She noted thankfully that her luggage had already been brought up, just as her mother said it would be. As soon as Penny shut the door, she and the other girls changed into pyjamas and crawled into their new beds. 

 

For the first time all day, Elsa relaxed, and allowed her eyes to close.

 

She fell into a deep sleep to the sounds of her new home; Of her roommates’ steady breathing, and the current flowing past the windows. 


	8. How To ( Potty ) Train Your Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:  
> T: Happy New Year’s!  
> E: Hush it’s not quite New Year’s yet.  
> T: It’s close enough.   
> E: we hope you all had an amazing Christmas. 2018 is gonna be awesome. Especially for us as we’re meeting face to face for the FIRST TIME!  
> T: She’s a bit excited can you tell?  
> E: In the meantime, have a chapter as a late Christmas present from us!  
> T: Or a blessing for the new year!   
> E: Enjoy! :D
> 
> Disclaimer: It’s a new year, and a new chance to try and legally adopt these characters as our own, but once again we’ve had little success. So these characters aren’t ours, nor is the world we’re playing around in. (For now.)

Hiccup lay awake, staring at the packed dirt ceiling above him, lumpy and deformed in the darkness. The other boys in his room were fast asleep, their breathing even and calming, except for one boy in the corner, whose snoring was practically a dragon’s roar it was so loud. Despite the snoring, the overall atmosphere in the room was peaceful and lulling, yet he couldn’t stop his legs from jittering. 

The case at the foot of his bed, still untouched from when he’d first arrived, rattled. 

Hiccup held his breath, his whole body freezing in place. The rhythm of breathing from the other four boys didn’t change. 

He relaxed, letting out a breath that was more like a sigh. Five more minutes. Just to be sure. 

The case rattled again. 

Ok, make that three.

As it always does in situations like these, time seemed to slow, every second taking three times as long as it should have. By now, Hiccup’s legs were practically doing a jig under the covers. 

30 seconds.

10\. 

Give it 5 more.

When he reached zero, Hiccup whipped back the duvet and swung his legs over the side of his bed. His feet, sweaty with nerves, stuck to the hardwood floor as he stood up. Lifting them created a squick, small enough to barely be noticeable, but still it made Hiccup wince. Could nothing be silent? Internally, he sighed. It would have to do. Slowly and carefully, making every effort not to make a single noise (and failing miserably), he made his way to the foot of his bed and knelt before the case.

He unlatched it--- and immediately tumbled backwards as a black blur crashed into his chest. The next thing he knew, a rough tongue was licking his face and neck, while sharp little claws dug into his bony shoulders. 

Hiccup couldn’t help but laugh soundlessly in relief, even if the claws did hurt a little, pricking and prodding him all over. At least his dragon was okay.

“Hey bud,” Hiccup scratched Toothless behind his jaw, the way he knew he liked it. Toothless nuzzled into the palm of his hand, his eyes closed in pleasure. Hiccup felt the weight of the dragon pressing against his chest and sat up before the little beast could get too comfortable. “Come on, Bud,” he whispered. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Toothless’s eyes snapped open and he rolled off of Hiccup’s chest and onto the floor with a thump. Hiccup leaned down, balancing himself on his forearms, to look into the dragon’s piercing green eyes. Anyone else would have been intimidated, staring down at a dragon, even a small one. Hiccup just smiled.

He pushed aside his case, mindful of the boys still fast asleep in their own beds, as he reached under the bed and pulled out a small bundle that reeked of fish and spices. Toothless’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth, his eyes glued to the wad of napkins in Hiccup’s lap.

“One at a time, ok?” Hiccup muttered, more to himself than the dragon sitting in front of him. He unfolded the first napkin, and wrinkled his nose at the stench that wafted from it. In the back of his mind, he made a mental note to come up with a good story by morning to explain why their dorm now smelled like a fish market on a hot summer day as he put the napkin and its fish on the floor. As soon as he was clear, Toothless practically attacked the morsel of fish, wolfing it down and immediately staring at him with the expectation of more. 

Hiccup sighed, opening the next napkin, then the next, and the next, until all the fish was devoured. Toothless crept forward, sniffing Hiccup’s pyjama pockets as if he could be hiding more food there. 

“Sorry bud, that’s all I could manage to take this time,” Hiccup whispered as he stuffed the oily napkins back under his bed. Even the amount he had taken that had drawn strange looks from his new housemates, no doubt wondering how such a scrawny boy could eat so much in one sitting. 

Hiccup got to his feet, trying his best to ignore the stench of oily fish that now clung to him and hung around his bed. He felt Toothless brush against his legs, and looked down to see him chasing his tail, trying to catch it in his mouth. 

The boy smiled down at his dragon and his antics. He’d been cooped up in that case for hours upon hours ---- no wonder he was practically squirming out of his scales. The dragon started laps around the room, jumping over Hiccup’s bed and any other obstacles, his little claws clicking against the hard floor. None of the other boys stirred, but Hiccup knew that wouldn’t last forever. He moved to intercept Toothless, but after only one more lap, the dragon dashed across to the small window by the doorway and pressed his nose against it, leaving a foggy imprint on the glass.

“Toothless?” Hiccup called softly. “What is it bud?”

The dragon nudged the glass again, his tail lashing back and forth, and looked back at Hiccup somewhat desperately. 

“You want to go outside?” Hiccup asked, puzzled. Toothless just looked at him. He was practically bouncing. Hiccup recognized that look. He’d woken up to that look many times in the middle of the night, to the eyes of his dragon pleading with him to...go outside. 

“Oh. Oh,” Hiccup realized, “you have to go outside.”

The dragon continued to stare at him. 

“But how am I going to get you outside?” he muttered.“We can’t go outside, what if someone sees you? Or what if someone sees me and I get expelled for wandering the castle in the middle of the night to take my dragon to do his business?”

Toothless’s only answer to this was to nudge the window for a third time. 

“Okay, Hiccup, think,” he said to himself, rubbing his temples. His eyes strayed to the door on the other end of the room. Wait. Maybe…? No. It was ridiculous. Toothless jumped down from the window to his side and nuzzled his hand, his eyes begging. Hiccup sighed. This was by far one of the craziest ideas he’d ever had, but he had to do something. 

“Come on bud,” he whispered, creeping to the door that led to the dorm’s toilets. The dragon followed him warily, realizing that his plan did not, in fact, involve going outside. 

Once they were both inside, Hiccup shut the door and locked it. The dragon glared suspiciously around the small room, from the cubicle walls to the yellow and black tiled floor. 

“It’s okay bud,” Hiccup said, patting his head. “We’re just gonna try something different.”

Toothless gave him a look that clearly said I would rather get locked back in that case.

“Just hear me out,” Hiccup said, holding his hands up. The dragon sat back on his haunches. I’m listening.

“Okay,” Hiccup started, “I need you,” he pointed at Toothless, “to get on there.” He pointed at the lone toilet in the room. 

Toothless switched his glare to the cubicle, then back to Hiccup. You can’t be serious. 

“I’m deadly serious,” Hiccup answered, holding eye contact with the dragon. They had an intense stare down for almost a minute. Eventually, Toothless broke away to sniff around the toilet. Hiccup wasn’t entirely sure who had won. Him, or the call of nature. Either way, Toothless was at least investigating the bathroom, and that was a start. 

Once Toothless had determined the strange white object relatively safe, he flashed Hiccup another look. You want me to do what exactly?

Hiccup really couldn’t think of a way to articulate what he was asking of his dragon, so he did the only thing he could think of: he sat on the toilet, pyjamas and all.

Toothless’s eyes widened slightly as he cocked his head. He’d come to a realization. Hiccup could tell he didn’t entirely approve of it. 

“Yes, I want you to go in here,” Hiccup confirmed, standing up.

The dragon didn’t budge, staring at Hiccup with something like incredulity. 

“Sorry bud,” Hiccup shrugged, only a little apologetic. “It’s the only way.”

Toothless rumbled. He glared at Hiccup. He glared at the tile. He glared at the locked door. And finally he hopped up onto the toilet, balancing himself carefully on the slippery porcelain, his tail hanging down to brush the floor. 

“Good boy,” Hiccup encouraged, “now just---go.”

The dragon stared at him, waiting. Hiccup stared back, trying to figure out what he wanted. 

“Oh,” Hiccup whispered, suddenly understanding. “I’ll just...wait outside, okay?”

Without another word, he exited the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, tempted to fall asleep. He wondered what time it was, and exactly how early he had to get up tomorrow. Just as his back began to slide down the wall, he heard a faint scratching coming from behind him, beyond the bathroom door. Hiccup mentally slapped himself awake and turned to re-enter the bathroom. As he opened the door, he was welcomed by the sight of Toothless playing with the toilet chain dangling down from the cubicle ceiling, his claws screeching against the tiles in an attempt to catch it. He looked like a cat teased by a piece of yarn.

“Toothless, hey, no. Come on, bud.” Hiccup scurried over to the cubicle, just as Toothless managed to catch the chain between his claws and yank it down. The toilet began to gurgle and flush and the dragon watched with fascination, his eyes following the spinning whirlpool of water. Round and round and round ...

“Alright bud,” he chuckled. “let's go to bed.”

Toothless hopped off the top of the toilet as Hiccup opened the door back into the dorm and, after checking all four boys were still fast asleep, lead the dragon back over to his case. 

“Ok, Toothless, get in.”

The dragon stubbornly stayed where he was, sitting at the foot of the bed. Hiccup sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

“Look, it’s only temporary. I promise I’ll let you out as often as I can till I find somewhere else for you to stay. You gotta work with me here, bud.” 

Toothless still didn’t move, his eyes wide and pleading as he stared at Hiccup, who stared back. Hiccup should have known better than to think the dragon would simply settle for sleeping in a suitcase. 

Eventually he couldn't stand to look at those eyes anymore. “Okay!” he exclaimed, then jumped at the sound of his own voice at normal conversation levels. “Okay,” he repeated, lower, “you can sleep with me.” With that he closed the case, and Toothless immediately perked up, throwing him a gummy grin as he leapt on to the bed.

“But we're waking up early and you're getting back in there,” Hiccup warned, trying to sound stern, even though he was standing barefoot in his pajamas while a dragon made himself comfortable in his bed. He wasn't entirely sure if it worked. He hoped it did. No one could see Toothless. No one.

XXXX

Hiccup jolted awake, sitting bolt upright in his bed. Had he overslept? No, no he couldn’t have, the sunrise was only just starting to peek through the window panes, the soft pink light creeping up his bed sheets. The rest of the room lay in muted shadow.

A small, black ball snored softly next to his feet. Toothless was curled around his claws, his nose tucked under his tail. Hiccup glanced at the four beds arrayed around the room. It looked like the boys were out cold, all of them splayed under their covers in various positions, save the snoring kid next to him, who had somehow become entangled in his own sweaty sheets and thrown part of his blankets off the bed. Bad first night, Hiccup thought, sympathetically. But his roommate wasn’t his concern right now, unless he woke up.

Slowly, he swung his legs out from under the covers, careful not to startle the sleeping dragon. Hiccup made his way to the case and unlatched the top, propping it open against the bedpost. When he got to his feet, he was met those two big green eyes staring at him. Actually, boring into him. Hiccup felt frozen in place. He had to look away.

“Come on, bud. They can’t see you.” 

Toothless sniffed contemptuously, blinking once before stretching out his front legs and pushing himself sleepily to the floor. He crawled into the case, curling up once more on the nest of blankets Hiccup had constructed for him in there. 

Hiccup eased his uniform and robes out from under the sleepy dragon, hanging them on his bed post before he shut the lid. He made sure to latch it securely before climbing back into bed and pulling the covers up to his chin. Morning was only a few hours away. Hiccup was sure he could sleep just a little longer before breakfast. Besides, he’d woken himself up before dawn, why couldn’t he do it again?

XXXX

The sound of the dormitory door slamming shut was what woke Hiccup. His eyes snapped open to see a now sunlight streaked and empty dorm room. 

The other boys’ beds were made. Hiccup could hear chatter and laughter from outside his door, and he knew he’d overslept. 

With the speed only a Firebolt could match, he jumped out of bed, at first panicking when he thought he had left his uniform in his case, then breathing a sigh of relief as he saw it lying on his bed. Hiccup flung off his pyjamas and threw on his clothes, cursing himself when he managed to put his trousers on the wrong way round. In a matter of minutes, he was dressed. He was just about to close the dormitory door when he remembered his wand, lying sad and forgotten, on his bedside cabinet, and darted back in to retrieve it. 

Hiccup dashed down the hall, tripping over his own feet, until he skidded into the deserted common room. The ashes of the fire from the night before lay scattered on the stone hearth, and someone’s books lay abandoned on the mustard sofa, but no one else was around. They had already left for breakfast. Damn it!

As Hiccup rushed out of the Hufflepuff dormitory, he found a group of older students, all wearing blue ties and hugging stacks of books, sitting in a circle on the stone floor and talking excitedly about a new potions book. 

“I heard some of the potions in it were almost banned by the Ministry ---”

“Apparently, one could even heal people on the brink of death ---”

“I heard that Professor Crowe has got her own copy! Maybe if we ask her about it ---”

Hiccup walked past, moving as fast as he could in the direction of the Great Hall. The smell of bacon and eggs, sweet rolls and toast made his mouth water as he passed the kitchen and headed up, out and into the hallway and then through the giant doors. 

The Hall was completely different compared to the night before. For one, there were a lot less students. Many of them, or at least many of the older ones, tended to skip full breakfast in exchange for more sleep and a cup of tea on the way to class. Hiccup’s stomach growled. He was not one of these people. 

He started to make his way to the Hufflepuff table, wondering who he could sit next to--he’d learned nearly everyone’s names at the banquet last night, but he’d forgotten them just as quickly--maybe his roommates? 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone waving. It was that kid from the train, Jack, his dark green tie loose around his neck, a wide grin on his face. “Hiccup!” he called across the hall, not caring if anyone heard him. “Hiccup, over here!” he tried again, until Hiccup turned his head. Merida sat across from him, her wild curls still tangled from sleep. 

Hiccup glanced at his House’s table. No one seemed to be paying him any attention. Maybe it was alright...to go sit at the Slytherin table, with his friends. Merida was doing it, after all. Were they his friends? he wondered. They must be. People that wanted you to sit with them at mealtimes, those were friends. Hiccup smiled nervously, and headed over to join Jack and Merida. 

The Slytherin table was just like the other three. The students had all seated themselves into groups, laughing and talking loudly. An apple flew through the air, missing Hiccup by an inch, and a girl with long, chestnut hair caught it. 

“Cheers, Rach!”

“No problem!”

Quickly making sure no other fruit was being tossed down the table, Hiccup sped towards his friends and took his place beside Merida. 

“‘Ook who defided to join uff,” Merida said, at least three pieces of toast crammed into her mouth. 

A boy sitting to Jack’s right glanced up from his bacon, perturbed. “If you want to stuff half a loaf of toast into your gob Merida, by all means we respect your decisions, but for God’s sake don’t talk with it in your mouth.”

Merida rolled her blue eyes practically into the back of her head but heeded his words and kept her mouth shut. 

“The name’s Rider, Flynn Rider,” the boy introduced himself, wiggling his eyebrows at Hiccup.

Now Jack was the one rolling his eyes. “Eat your bacon, double oh seven.”

Hiccup blinked, confused, but decided not to ask, putting it down to Muggle jokes. 

Merida managed to swallow her toast, passing Hiccup a plate piled with sausages. 

“You’d better eat something quick, lessons start soon,” she said.

Hiccup rolled two sausages onto his plate, along with a mess of scrambled eggs, and started to eat. 

“What’s your first lesson?” Jack asked Merida, sipping his orange juice. 

“History of Magic, I think,” she responded, her brow furrowed. 

“That sounds interesting,” Hiccup perked up. 

The Scot glanced sideways at him. “Boring is what it sounds like.”

“It can’t be that bad…” Jack mused.

“I’m going to listen to a dusty old professor talk about dusty old buildings and books and dead wizards--”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Hiccup admitted.

“Exactly.”

Jack waved half a baguette in Hiccup’s direction, dropping crumbs over the table. “What about you, Hiccup?” he asked.

Hiccup opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He didn’t know. He’d found the schedule at his bedside last night, but he hadn’t looked at it too closely … nor had he taken it with him when he left in a hurry that morning. Son of a Banshee.

“Um, I’ve got to, er, go.”

Ignoring the confused expressions on their faces, he said a quick goodbye to Jack, Merida and Flynn and sprinted out of the hall, heading back down the stairs, past the kitchens, past the huddle of Ravenclaws, back into the Hufflepuff common room and into his dorm. Resting on his bedside table was a wrinkled piece paper. 

Hiccup snatched it and slipped it into his cloak pocket, making sure to check his first lesson. Herbology in Greenhouse One. With... Professor Hookhand?

After slipping a piece of sausage he’d managed to steal from breakfast into his case for Toothless, he left his dormitory for the second time that morning. It was only as he found himself standing in the entrance hall that Hiccup realised he had no idea how to get to the Greenhouses. Or where they even were. 

“Um, excuse me…” Hiccup approached the group of Ravenclaws, who paused their conversation to glance up at him. 

He swallowed, “Er, do you know how to get to -” he peered down at the schedule in his hands, “Greenhouse One?”

The Ravenclaws looked at one another before one shrugged and said, “Out into the courtyard, across the bridge and into the second courtyard. You’ll see a long line of seven greenhouses, can’t miss them.”

Without another word, they struck up their conversation again, leaving Hiccup running over the directions in his head as he walked rapidly away from them. 

Out into the courtyard, across the bridge, into the greenhouse … no. 

Out into the courtyard, across the bridge, into the hall …

Across the bridge, out into the greenhouse, into the courtyard …

It was much less crowded in the entrance hall now, with only a few students passing through to go out into the stone courtyard. 

Two students about his age, wearing Ravenclaw ties, brushed past him. Hiccup followed them, hoping they might be going to Greenhouse One. They looked rather anxious, both of them repeatedly checking the shorter boy’s watch. Hiccup wondered what time it was. Didn’t lessons usually start at nine?

“We’re gonna be so late,” the short boy muttered, checking his watch one more time. 

“Checking the watch again won’t make time move any slower,” his friend said, harshly impatient. “You just need to walk faster.”

“It’s not my fault!” the boy protested. “Your legs are longer than mine.”

“I hope Professor Hookhand doesn’t mind too much…”

So they were going to Greenhouse One! Or at least to Herbology.

“I mean, we don’t know our way around yet,” the other boy pointed out. “He can’t get too cross with us, right?”

Hiccup certainly hoped so.

“I bloody well hope so,” his friend answered lowly.

They continued on, the boys talking about their expectations of the class and their professor. Soon, they were crossing over the bridge, with the second courtyard in sight, all of them walking as fast as the various lengths of their legs would allow. Hiccup wondered why he didn’t just join their conversation instead of eavesdropping from afar, dragging behind like a newly hatched dragon. He wondered, but he didn’t do anything about it. 

It was a fairly warm day for September, the morning sun bouncing off the glass roofs of the seven greenhouses. Which was Greenhouse One? Hiccup asked himself, still not brave enough to ask his non-companions. All he could do was follow them, as they logically headed for the first building in the row. 

They opened the door to go inside, and Hiccup was about to follow when he saw the statue of a dragon perched on the roof, its sharp claws wrapped around the metal framework. He thought he recognised the breed, most likely out of one of the books he’d found hidden away in his parents’ room. But he couldn’t place it. It looked aggressive. Like it was glaring at him, eyeing him, ready to pounce. He didn’t like it at all.

Hiccup tore his eyes away from the statue and headed into the greenhouse, joining the mass of excited students already inside and wearing the mud-covered aprons hung all around the greenhouse. The Professor had his back to the class, organising a number of pots neatly on a shelf. Hiccup sighed in relief, quickly nabbing the apron to his right and slipping amongst the other First-Years just as the Professor swung around, a spade in one hand, his hook gleaming on the other. 

Several First-Years gasped. A boy at the far end of the greenhouse actually squealed, before covering his mouth immediately after in embarrassment. But Hiccup couldn’t blame him. The Professor was certainly a sight to behold. He looked downright malicious, mean and scary, with a smirk that could curdle dairy. His hook waved in the air high above his shiny bald head. A pair of thick, dark eyebrows met at the bridge of his bulbous nose which was framed by what looked like a meagre attempt at a moustache. Internally, Hiccup groaned. Of course his first lesson would be with the scariest, meanest, most strict —

“Good mornin’ First-Years. I’m Professor Hookhand, head of Herbology. Nice to see you’re all ready to begin.” 

Hiccup blinked. Ok, so maybe not quite so scary after all.

The professor continued, “As it’s your first ever lesson at Hogwarts, I wan’ you to turn to the nearest person from the other House and partner up. Quick introductions before we start.”

Before he could even turn to find someone, he felt a furious tapping on his shoulder. 

“Hi!” a girl stuck her hand practically under his nose, her bright green eyes crinkled by her wide grin. “I’m Rapunzel!”

“Uh...hi,” Hiccup replied, taking her hand. She shook his vigorously. “My name is Hiccup.”

“Hiccup?” the girl repeated, relinquishing his hand. “That’s a really unique name. Where are you from?” 

Hiccup wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. He wasn’t technically from this country. “Er, Norway.”

Rapunzel’s eyes widened, and Hiccup felt his cheeks redden.. 

“Ooooh that’s so far! Why Hogwarts? Isn’t there a school for magic closer to where you live?” Rapunzel asked, sounding intrigued.

“Yeah,” Hiccup shrugged, “but my parents went here. They said it’s the best place to learn magic in the world, so they sent me here too.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Hiccup from Norway. I’m glad you’re here instead of there.”

Rapunzel smiled and Hiccup relaxed just a little. “Nice to meet you too, Rapunzel.”

XXXX

Merida rubbed her eyes as she came out of the classroom, fighting the urge to yawn. 

“Merlin, that class,” she grumbled. “Could she have made it any more boring?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Hiccup protested, in the middle of yawning himself. 

“The History of Magic isn’t even important,” she continued. “It's all dusty old wizards and petty wars. Who cares?”

Hiccup shrugged, rubbing his eyes, “Dunno.”

They stepped onto one of the moving staircases just as it changed its course again. Scattered on the steps at the end of the staircase was a group of First-Years, quietly giggling amongst themselves. 

“What’re they all staring at?” Merida asked aloud, taking the stairs three at a time to get to the bottom. Hiccup followed, trying his best to keep up and maintain his balance. 

When she reached the bottom, Merida barged her way through a huddle of giggling girls to see Jack and Flynn, holding on to the wide marble banister for dear life, both staring bug-eyed at the staircases moving above and below them. 

“Why is it moving?” Flynn demanded. 

Merida heard Hiccup stumble to her side, panting, “What’s going on? Why …” he paused, looking at the two boys and following their gaze. “Oh, right, yeah. Muggleborns.”

“Get a grip, Frost,” Merida sighed, swinging her book into his arm, and causing him to tighten his grip, as if he was going to fall. “It’s just a moving staircase.”

Both boys stared at her in disbelief. 

“Just a moving staircase?” Jack said, exasperated. “Just a moving staircase?”

The girls surrounding them began to giggle again and Merida suppressed the urge to smack them off the staircase. It wasn’t the boys’ fault they’d never seen a proper moving staircase. 

“Just don’t think about it,” Hiccup said.

Flynn raised his eyebrows, “Sure thing, I’ll just forget all about the magically enchanted moving stairs for a min--”

The marble staircase lurched to the left. Merida rolled her eyes as Jack wrapped his arms tighter around the bannister. 

“Great, now I’ve missed my floor!” A boy wearing Gryffindor prefect robes exclaimed. He stormed past the group and up to the top of the staircase, muttering about the inconvenience of First-Years under his breath.

Merida crossed her arms, “Yeh can’t stay here all day. If yeh want to be late to yer first lessons then at least you’ll be in detention together.”

Without another word, she continued to the bottom of the staircase, Hiccup hot on her heels. They waited in silence for the staircase to connect to another and went through the door onto the second floor. 

“Maybe we should’ve helped them,” Hiccup said, looking over his shoulder at the door they had just walked through. 

Merida snorted, “As if I was gonna let them get away that easy! It’ll be sooo much fun to throw in Frost’s face as a comeback later.” She shrugged, “Besides, we’re late to class as it is.”

They turned the corner and headed down the corridor, coming to a stop outside a large, wooden door. 

Hiccup glanced at his schedule, “Is this --”

“Transfiguration.” Merida pushed open the door, and walked casually inside, “with Professor …”

She trailed off, coming to a halt in the middle of the classroom. Her mouth hung open as she stared at the witch sitting stern behind the teacher’s desk. The woman wore emerald robes and her brown hair hung in two long, heavy braids down her back. Her slender fingers held an ebony wand which she tapped impatiently on the table. 

“You’re late,” she said, ceasing her tapping and getting up from her desk. Merida stayed frozen to the spot, refusing to believe what was happening. 

“Mr. Haddock, Miss Dunbroch, please take a seat so I may begin my lesson.”

Merida heard Hiccup stagger to his seat, his books landing unceremoniously on his wooden desk. Almost unconsciously, she followed him and plopped her books next to his, still staring unabashedly at her mother as she began the lesson. 

What in Merlin’s name is going on? she thought, utterly bewildered. Wasn’t Mum supposed to be at home with her brothers? When did she take this job? Why did she take this job? Honestly, was her only thought to completely and utterly mortify her daughter? 

Merida felt a bony elbow dig into her side and she turned to see Hiccup frowning at her, his head cocked in confusion and just a little concern. 

You okay? he mouthed, raising his eyebrows. Merida didn’t blame him for not being brave enough to whisper. The class was dead silent, every pair of eyes trained on her mother. 

She nodded in response, although she was definitely not ok. Not with her own mother teaching her Transfiguration class on her first day at Hogwarts, with no warning whatsoever. Merida frowned, thinking. Her mother had always, always told her everything she thought she should know about the magical world. She would never have kept her out of the loop on something so important. Elinor simply turning up as the new Transfiguration teacher without so much as an owl being sent ahead, without any warning at all … Merida couldn’t piece it together. Why?

“Miss Dunbroch?”

Her mother’s voice derailed her train of thought. Every pair of eyes in the room centred on her like a spotlight. 

“Well?” Elinor said, “can you tell us why it is important never to practice transfiguration spells on a fellow student?”

Merida blinked at her mother, but answered dully: “Because you could harm the student if the spell isn’t performed correctly.”

Elinor’s eyes softened, “Correct, Miss Dunbroch. Five points to Gryffindor. Even adult wizards rarely, if ever, use transfiguration on another human being. It’s considered unethical, and many ministries around the wizarding world have even declared it illegal. So, we’ll be only working with objects. Like so.”

She leveled her wand at the porcelain vase sitting on her desk. “Flintifors,” she intoned.

The vase did nothing for a second, and the class held their breath, before it began to spin, tying itself in knots over and over, shrinking until eventually only a box of matches lay in its place. 

The class broke into an appreciative round of applause---- all except Merida. 

Elinor smiled, but there was a trick in it. Merida knew that smile too well. It was the kind of smile she gave one of her brothers when they had almost succeeded in their plot to get into the cookie jar, but had been easily thwarted by the spell she had already cast on the lid. And Merida knew too, that there was no way the class would be working with spells like that anytime soon, even before her mother said:

“But we won’t be getting to that level for quite a while.” The entire class groaned, disappointed. Merida merely sighed. 

“She seems nice,” Hiccup whispered, pointing his wand at the quill on their desk. They had been tasked with trying to change the quill’s colour from white to blue.

“She’s my mother,” Merida replied.

Hiccup choked mid-spell, a flash of light shooting from the end of his wand and ricocheting off one of his books. 

“She’s your what?”

“Shh!” Merida hushed him, tempted to cover his mouth before someone heard them. “I can’t have everyone knowing. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“You never mentioned your mum works here!”

“She doesn’t, that’s the point,” Merida hissed, trying to keep her voice low. 

“What does that mean?” he asked, completely bemused, all thoughts of practicing the spell lost. 

“I didn’t know she works here. She doesn’t work here. She never has.”

Hiccup’s brow furrowed. “Wasn’t there an empty seat at the professors’ table at the feast last night?”

“Yes…” Merida nodded, the memory coming back to her. 

“Well...who’s supposed to be teaching transfiguration if it’s not your mother?”

“Mr. Haddock, Miss Dunbroch.” Elinor practically materialized next to their desks. Hiccup flinched. Merida didn’t. “I won’t have you two gabbing away when you’re supposed to be working. One more time and I’ll be taking points from Hufflepuff,” she gave her daughter a pointed look, “and from Gryffindor.”

Hiccup shut his mouth and started waving his wand at the quill, as Merida stared at the desk. Elinor moved away, but Merida took no notice. She was staring so hard she could have bored holes in the desk surface. All she could see were the carvings on her desk, the names and dates and ridiculous drawings and lines of spells and inside jokes that had probably been there since the beginning of time. 

She had a feeling Transfiguration was not going to be her favorite class. Not by a long shot. 

XXXX

Merida plopped down at the Gryffindor table with a groan as the chatter of students, excited after the first day of classes, swelled around her. What a day. 

“What’s the matter with you?” a girl to her right asked. 

The girl in question had blonde bangs swinging into her eyes and a mouth full of food. She squeezed herself between Merida and another First-Year, not taking her big blue eyes off of Merida for a second.

Merida frowned, “What?”

The girl laughed, crumbs flying out of her mouth and onto the table. “Oh, right, sorry, I’m Astrid. Hofferson.”

Astrid held out her hand, and Merida took it happily. Something about the girl reminded her of herself. Most likely the terrible table manners. 

Astrid let go of her hand, “So are you gonna tell me what’s bothering you or --”

“My mum’s the transfiguration teacher.” Merida blurted it out before she could stop herself. Immediately, her cheeks began to warm and she let her head drop, the familiar curtain of curls hiding her embarrassment. 

Astrid’s blue eyes widened. “Oh. That sucks.”

“A bit yeah,” Merida sighed. She didn’t know why she was so embarrassed... but as she cautiously lifted her head, she saw Astrid stealing a handful of pumpkin pasties and tossing dropping them onto her plate.

“I mean, having your mother following you around and nagging you all the time?” she shook her head, waving a chicken leg around to illustrate her point. “That’s gonna be so bad.”

Merida’s eyes widened as she considered that aspect of this situation. She was mainly confused, and hurt her mother hadn’t told her anything about this, but maybe Astrid had a point. “...Ya think so?” 

“I know so.” Astrid nodded along with herself, and took a bite of her chicken. “Like don’t get me wrong, I love my mum, but it’s nice being here without her, where she can’t tell me what to do. I bet your mum might even expect you to be the best in the class or something. Better make sure you’re an ace in Transfiguration.”

Merida had no idea if she was an ace in Transfiguration or not. She hadn’t even been to all of her classes yet. She had no idea what she was an ace in, period. She snuck a quick look at the professors’ table. Her mother sat with the rest of them now, in the chair that had been empty the night before, jabbering away with the other teachers like she’d known them forever. Like she’d always been there. Most of the other students didn’t seem to notice or care, but to Merida just the fact of her being where she knew she shouldn’t be was earth shaking. 

A pea bouncing off the back of her head derailed her train of thought. It seemed the universe just wasn’t going to let her sink into a reverie today. She turned around to glare at the Slytherin table, the only possible origin, and found Flynn innocently eating his food as Jack attempted to cover his laughter. 

“Merida?” Astrid asked, also shooting her most intimidating glare towards the Slytherin table. “What was that?”

“A pea probably,” Merida said, flashing her new friend a sly grin, “But that doesn’t matter as long as I find something good enough to throw back at them, the idiots.”

Astrid didn’t hesitate to return the grin. She leaned over the table, knocking over a bowl of crisps in the process, and reached for the mountain of profiteroles. 

“Here,” she said, placing seven or eight squashed pastry balls on top of Merida’s untouched slice of bread. “Ammunition.”

Merida picked up a profiterole, the cream making her hands greasy, and fired it at Jack. The cream bomb flew across the gap between the tables and exploded on the side of Jack’s face. 

“Bullseye!” Astrid exclaimed, practically jumping out of her seat. “Hey, nice aim!”

Merida was about to thank her when she caught sight of the two boys bending back their spoons, carrots positioned like missiles. Flynn had one eye closed, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration while Jack tried to wipe off the cream still smeared on his cheek. 

That was when Merida glanced back at the professors’ table and realized that Professor Aster --- and her mother --- were whispering to each other and looking back and forth between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. She could practically feel the heat of her mother’s eyes on her like a fire. She tapped Astrid, who was almost ready to fling another volley. Astrid looked at her, confused, but all Merida had to do was nod toward the professors, and she immediately lowered her weapon. 

“Oh they’re screwed,” Astrid said, covering her face as if what was about to happen was too painful to watch. 

“I think you mean we’re screwed,” Merida corrected her, feeling her heart sink. 

The two looked on, helpless, as Professor Aster marched towards Jack and Flynn. In unison, the boys lowered their spoons and stuffed the carrots into their mouths, trying to act nonchalant. Merida couldn’t help giggling as she watched Aster point to the cream smeared across Jack’s face and Jack trying his best to act surprised, as if he had never even noticed it was there. 

She was about to say something to Astrid when she felt her mother’s shadow looming over them. Oh no.

“May I ask you girls why you were tossing perfectly edible food at other students?” Elinor asked, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. 

Astrid remained silent, her previous abrasive bravery gone. Merida assumed it fell to her to do the talking. After all, it was her mother…

She lifted her eyes to meet her mother’s gaze, gritting her teeth. “We were just trying to make sure the boys got a taste o’ the full menu.”

As soon as it came out of her mouth, she regretted it. Merida felt Astrid flinch beside her, and quite honestly, she would have done the same if the circumstances were reversed. Her mother’s face remained the same and Merida couldn’t help dropping her eyes. 

Elinor said nothing for a moment. By now, the near-by students had caught on to the drama unfolding, and although no one made it obvious they were listening in, Merida could easily tell by the lack of chatter and cutlery scraping on the plates. 

“Five points from Gryffindor,” Elinor said finally, her shrill voice cutting through the background noise. Merida knew what was coming. “For Miss Hofferson.”

A series of groans and hisses sounded from the Gryffindor students closest to them. 

“And a further ten points shall be removed for that comment alone, Miss Dunbroch.” 

There it is.

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will be coming soon ... thank you so much for reading :D


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